But then you showed up
by Zeelee
Summary: Chapter 8 up! She never wanted to be swept off her feet. He never wanted to be tied down. Things don't always go as planned... RemyRogue
1. Loaded guns

A/N: Hi! *waves* This is my first attempt at X-men movieverse, mostly I've done comicverse. I kind of took out all of X2 in this one--basically, Jean doesn't die and all that good stuff.   
  
Chapter 1  
_  
  
You put in my hands a loaded gun   
  
And then told me not to fire it   
  
When you did the things you said were up to me   
  
And then accused me of trying to fuck it up   
  
But you've never been a waste of my time   
  
It's never been a drag   
  
So take a deep breath and count back from ten   
  
And maybe you'll be alright_.  
  
_-_Liz Phair  
  
  
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. Rogue let out a little moan as she felt ice slide up and down her back, his hands brushing her skin just enough to give her a glimpse of his thoughts, which mirrored her own too well. She could feel the ice covering his lips melting as he moved over her breasts, up towards her shoulder blades and onto her neck, and he breathed onto a particularly sensitive spot on her jaw, freezing it and making her nerves tingle...  
  
Marie D'Ancanto woke with a start, her back arched and mouth parted as if the dream were real. Realizing what she was doing, she quickly rolled over, hoping no one in the room had been awake to see her. Of course, there was no way she could get back to sleep now--she was way too wired. Sighing, Rogue swung her legs over the edge of her bunk bed and walked out.  
  
It was at times like these she missed Logan. He could usually be counted on to be awake at this odd hour, brooding in the kitchen or slicing up Mystique holograms in the Danger Room, and he never seemed to mind her company. It was a good arrangement: she could use her crush on him to distract her from problems with Bobby, and he could switch his attention from thoughts of Jean to being her protective father figure. And if, by being with him when Jean wouldn't, she distracted him in more ways than one, so much the better.  
  
But Logan had left, not for any important reason like finding his past, just because--although really, everyone knew it was because Jean had finally told him in no uncertain terms that she would stay faithful to Scott. And Marie had her doubts as to whether or not he would be coming back at all this time, now that his precious Jeannie was most definitely not interested.  
  
Rogue hated thoughts like that, but really she couldn't _help_ being bitter. When he'd come back the first time, she thought he'd come back for her, thought that he had just proved he really _would_ take care of her like he'd promised. But he spent all his time chasing after Jean and bickering with Scott, barely even giving her a first or second glance, except when they both happened to be up at 3 in the morning, both pretending that nothing was bothering them. But he'd left so suddenly, no explanation, barely even a goodbye, and certainly no promise to come back. He'd hurt Rogue, more deeply than she cared to explore.  
  
Rogue's musings led her to the kitchen, but as she grabbed a soda from the fridge, she paused, listening. Was that... it sounded like there were voices coming from the main hall. Rogue moved silently, a trick she'd learned from Logan, until she was in a good position to spy on the speakers.  
  
I thought that this school was open to any and all who needed sanctuary, Scott, regardless of their attitude or their upbringing.  
  
Logan was an exception, Storm--he was knee-deep in Magneto's plot, we had to involve him. But other than that, this place is a sanctuary for mutant _children_, not full-grown men, and especially not men who would most definitely be a liability.  
  
How do you know?! You thought we didn't need Logan, and he's saved us all on numerous occasions.  
  
Ororo please, calm down. Scott's not insulting Gambit, he just means that we can't afford to be taking in every adult mutant off the streets who needs our help-  
  
-especially not hot-tempered, double-crossing thieves who work for our enemies half the time!  
  
_Everyone_ makes mistakes, Scott! I don't care what you say abut him, Remy Lebeau is one of my dearest friends, and this is my home--I have the right to let him stay a while in my home!  
  
Ororo, it's more complicated than that-  
  
Oh, bullshit Scott. What, are you afraid that letting another full-grown male' into the mansion would have the same effect on your marriage as the last one did?  
  
Rogue gasped. No one had voiced the opinion that Logan was the cause of the recent fights between Jean and Scott yet, and now Ororo-!  
  
Jean and Scott were both silent, glaring daggers at Ororo, who simply whirled around and stormed upstairs. Outside, Rogue could hear a clap of thunder.  
  
***  
  
Scott groaned and put his head in his hands. It was the morning after the fight with Storm, and the last place he wanted to be was in his office, doing expenses for the mansion. He and Jean had argued again after Ororo left, over the bold statement she had made before stomping off, and the only place Scott wanted to be was the Danger Room, blowing up holograms of Logan, and possibly Gambit.  
  
A knock on the door interrupted his violent fantasies. Come in, he called, and Ororo stepped in. Scott, I... I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I lost my temper, I'm afraid, although that's no excuse for being needlessly rude.  
  
Scott sighed, running his hands through his hair. We were all a little on-edge last night, I guess.  
  
Yes, but my behavior was--uncalled for. And Scott, the last thing I said... I didn't mean it at all, it just came out in the heat of the moment--I have no place to be questioning your relationship with Jean.  
  
No, you don't, he growled.   
  
Ororo bristled at his harsh tone, but forced herself to remain calm. I also wanted to talk to you again about Gambit coming to stay here.  
  
Scott said nothing.  
  
... There's a boathouse down by the lake; if you don't want him staying in the mansion, I could set him up there.  
  
The problem isn't him staying in the house, Storm, the problem is he's a wanted criminal.  
  
He's a thief, Scott, not a murderer. Besides, you've never really questioned any of the kids about _their_ past--or me, either, for that matter.  
  
Scott jerked his head up, staring. 'Ro, you're not--you haven't-  
  
My past is not what we're discussing right now. Scott, Remy is one of my dearest friends, and he's in an enormous amount of trouble right now. He needs me, and he needs a place to stay. I'll give him that whether you want me to or not, but I don't want him to come here hated by you and hiding from everyone else here.  
  
Scott just scowled at his desk.  
  
_Please, _Scott--he won't be any trouble out in the boathouse, he won't use up any money, he won't bother anyone, I'll make sure of it. If you can't find it in your heart to have compassion for him, then do it for me, as a friend!  
  
Scott remained silent.  
  
Ororo made a noise of frustration and stood to go, but Scott's voice stopped her. Logan won't be needing his old room; Gambit can stay there. And if he needs to, he can charge the cost of the flight to the mansion's credit card.  
  
Ororo smiled. She knew her fearless leader would come around. Thank you, Scott. This means a lot to me.  
  
Yeah, don't mention it, Scott grumbled. As soon as Ororo left, he headed straight for the Danger Room. He dearly needed to blow something up.  
  
***  
  
He hated New York already.  
  
It was cold, it was raining, the people were unfriendly and the food sucked. The man known as Gambit scowled and pulled his trenchcoat tighter around him. One would assume that if you were meeting a weather goddess in a public place she would at least have the decency to ensure good weather.  
  
Remy missed N'Awlins. It had only been a year since his banishment, and that wound still smarted. He had been bouncing around the country ever since, never staying in any one place longer than a few weeks, but he had avoided the East Coast at all cost. To a man born and raised in the steaming Louisiana swamps, the East Coast meant only one thing: Cold, mean people, cold, bad food, cold, uptight, and Cold. So far he'd been proven right on every account.  
  
Remy checked his watch, and scanned the crowds in Central Park impatiently. He grinned when he saw her--she was pretty impossible to miss. Remy would know her only by her height and the regal way she walked, not to mention her shock of white hair and bubble of dry air that surrounded her. Long time, no see, Stormy.  
  
You'd better be grateful for this, Mr. Lebeau. Do you know I almost flew into a jet engine in my hurry to pick you up?  
  
***  
  
Hey, Wo-ogue!   
  
Rogue stopped walking to her next class, gritting her teeth. I swear, Jubilee, you call me that one more time and I'm going to throw you through a wall.  
  
The hyper Chinese girl bounded up to walk with her friend. Ah, come on--I WUV you, Wogue!  
  
Rogue moaned. Why didn't your mother drown you at birth, Jubes!  
  
Because I'm too damn cute, duh.  
  
Uh-huh. In _what_ universe?  
  
Augh! You, like, totally hurt my feelings! Uh-oh--puppy dog eyes. What's the matter, Rogue, don't you WUV me?  
  
Rogue socked her friend in the arm, sending Jubilee skidding into the nearest wall. Hey! Why so violent? Are you, like, on the rag or something?  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes. I refuse to dignify that with an answer.  
  
Jubilee snickered. Poor Bobby, having such a moody girlfriend. So that's where all those bruises came from...  
  
You're horrible!  
  
Why thank you. She jogged to catch up with Rogue. Hey, have you seen the new guy that's staying in Logan's room?  
  
Rogue whirled around, grabbing Jubilee's shirt.   
  
Dude, cool down! Haven't you heard? There's this new mutant staying here, and he's taken Logan's old room. Jubilee grabbed her heart and doubled over dramatically. And he is, like, the _biggest babe on the planet!_  
  
Rogue ignored that last comment--Jubilee said that about any male who wasn't actively disfigured. Who cares? Why is he staying in Logan's room?  
  
Jubilee shrugged. I dunno. We're running short on space, with all the new students, y'know? It was probably one of the only adult rooms left, and besides, Logan's not gonna need it anymore, right?  
  
Rogue stopped, biting her lip, and felt a thread of pain make its way through her stomach. Dammit, why did he always get to her like this? Because Jubilee was right, though she didn't really know it--Logan wouldn't need it, because he was never coming back. Not for her.  
  
Whoever this stranger was taking Logan's room, Rogue hated him already.


	2. Cowboy movie that's you and me

A/N: You evil bastards. I'll have you guys know that thanks to you, I am not studying for history and will probably flunk the test tomorrow. That's right, evildoers, you have aided in this poor girl's procrastination. Take a moment to reflect on your sins.  
  
Thanks so much reviewers, y'all have no idea how much I love you! I'm so happy you guys like this story, and I'll try to live up to all your expectations. I seriously doubt all my updates will happen this quick as I'm busy to the point of combustion and am just lazy in general, but I'll try.  
  
Enjoy and please review!  
  
Disclaimer: Oh please, if I owned these characters Gambit would be in the movie and I would be playing Rogue. Hence, I do not own them, nor am I making any money off this, k? Suing is bad karma.  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
_In the interest of poetry   
And the cowboy movie that's you and me   
I'm back on the horse now and i am riding   
I am striding so effortlessly   
What i mean is it's late much too late for us   
And i'm fixing to go home with just my conscious   
And a bitter sense of irony as my chaperone.   
  
__-Ani Difranco_  
  
  
Stormy, where ya takin me, belle? Dis some charity house for m'tants?  
  
Ororo Munroe gritted her teeth and stared out the bus window. Remy loved working her like this, getting her so annoyed that she was seconds away from frying him with lightning, and then charming her into a flustered pile on the floor. Damn him.  
  
'S funny, I never t'ought you'd be one to spend your time in a m'tante nursin' home-  
  
Dammit Remy, will you let up?! I'm sick of your constant whining! Ororo scowled out the window--she'd had such a hot temper lately, blowing up first at Scott and now Remy.  
  
She could hear him move to sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'm sorry, belle, he said quietly. Sometimes dis cajun just don't know when ta stop.  
  
Storm sighed. It's all right, Remy. I've just been a little... tense lately.  
  
Haven't we all, he said darkly, referring to the growing tensions about mutants. Lately the news media had just been having a field day, what with the aftermath of Liberty Island* and the revealing of many splinter-brotherhood groups. Storm didn't know the details and didn't want to press, but she had a feeling that the situation Remy was in now arose from those tensions.  
  
Remy sighed, leaning back in his seat, fidgety and uncomfortable in the enclosed space of their train cab. Ororo glanced sideways at him, really looking at her one-time thieving companion for the first time since she'd picked him up. He was thin, much thinner than he used to be, and she didn't remember his clothes being quite so shabby the last time she saw him, which, granted, had been years ago. His hair was longer and darker, and his face was no longer the face of the daring, flamboyant and more-than-slightly arrogant eighteen-year-old she'd met three years ago. She wondered what had happened to put more suspicion than humor in those eyes, to replace his young excited smile with a goading almost manic grin.  
  
But he was still the cajun boy she knew. His demon eyes still sparkled with joy at his own cleverness, he still had that same damn arrogant swagger, he could still charm anyone--animal, vegetable, or mineral--into giving him exactly what he wanted.   
  
She glanced at him again, and noticed how he studied every passenger that walked by the open door of their compartment, sizing each one up to see whether they would be worth stealing from, his mind automatically figuring out the best angle and way to steal each one blind. Ororo smirked in spite of herself, wondering just what her friends at the mansion would make of Remy Lebeau.  
  
***  
  
Rogue twirled her straw in her now empty glass of lemonade, quite bored and not really listening to the conversation taking place between Jubes, Kitty and John. Not that she didn't love Jubes and Kitty to death, but whenever they were around John they turned into walking flirting machines, and the way John looked at her when they were talking, as if to say Look at how smart and cool and hot I am Rogue, aren't you impressed?' was annoying as hell. She liked John, he was her friend and all, but honestly: wasn't the fact that she'd been dating his best friend for a year enough to send the message I'm not interested?' Sheesh.  
  
Jubes broke in on Rogue's reverie. Hey Rogue, do ya know when Bobby's gonna be back?  
  
Rogue sighed. What a pleasant conversation topic. all he said was that his grandma was really sick, and the whole family had to be there for her, nothin' else.  
  
Kitty heaved a Big Sigh. Well damn, girl, I hope he gets back soon, because you have been a walking model for sexual frustration lately!  
  
Rogue gasped and socked her friend in the arm as Jubes and Kitty giggled helplessly. John, on the other hand, just gazed at Rogue, raising his eyebrow. Well, you know, you could find an _outlet_ for that frustration, if you wanted to, he said, mock-suggestively.  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes. Yeah, because your powers allow you to touch me, all right, she said sarcastically.  
  
John blinked, mystified. What, you mean girls don't appreciate third-degree burns?   
  
Oh yeah, baby, _burn_ me. No one makes it hot like you do! Her sarcasm would have cut through diamonds.  
  
Aw come on, Rogue, you know you want it, he teased, jokingly placing his hand on her arm, right where her glove ended and her skin began.  
  
Rogue jerked away as if he really had burned her. Not funny, John, she growled before storming out of the room.   
  
Jubilee shook her head. Man, that girl is touchy, she said.  
  
Kitty winked. _Fatally _touchy. Get it?  
  
A vicious pillow fight ensued.  
  
***  
  
Rogue didn't stop walking until she was outside. Stopping when she reached the gate, she scuffed her black boot on the pavement, sighing. Sometimes she wished she smoked just so she could have something to do at times like these.  
  
She wrapped her fingers around the slender metal posts that made up the gate. She probably shouldn't have stormed off in a huff like that; they were her friends, it's not like they meant anything by it. Jubes had just managed to touch on an extremely sensitive for Rogue.  
  
She didn't begrudge him going to visit his grandmother or anything; she just missed him, or rather missed what he could do. She missed the icy feel of his tongue and how his touches could make everything else just go away. She missed the expression in his eyes that took over whenever he glanced at her; she missed the wounded puppy-dog look he got whenever she got mad at him, whenever she hurt him. She loved how much he wanted her, loved her, loved having his arms there to hold her up and his voice always ready to whisper in her ear, Don't worry, Rogue. Everything's going to be all right. I'm here for you.  
  
And he could touch her. Rogue winced; no matter how much she lied to herself, she knew that one of the biggest reasons she was staying with Bobby Drake was because he could get past her mutation. Granted, there was still a layer of ever-so-thin ice between them, but Rogue figured it was as good as she was ever going to get.  
  
It wasn't the kissing or the sex that she needed so badly; it was just the ... touching. His hand on her cheek, his kisses in her hair, his arm around her as they cuddled on the couch. It was being unafraid of killing him that Rogue needed so much.  
  
And he knew it too. Rogue hated to see him hurting so much, hated to see his face when he knew they were about to fight again, but she couldn't help it. Couldn't help it if, whenever her arms were around his neck she was hearing Logan's voice in her head. Couldn't help it if she thought of her supposed father figure whenever Bobby put his arms around her. Couldn't help it if she treasured every hug, slight touch or word from the Wolverine far more than she did the efforts of her boyfriend...  
  
Groaning in frustration, Rogue turned around, ready to stomp back to the mansion, when she had the pleasure of meeting a very large cardboard box at eye level, complemented by several suitcases, a backpack and more than a few shopping bags. The southern belle went flying, as did the baggage and the man carrying them.   
  
Rogue found herself sprawled out on the pavement, a dull pain throbbing at her forehead where she'd collided with the box-monster. She sat up, rubbing her forehead and peering up through white bangs at the stranger.  
  
Remy swore under his breath. Someone had knocked into him, hard, and sent him and his luggage flying. He got up from the ground, rubbing his neck where the fence had smashed into him. Brushing his brown hair out of his eyes, he got a good look at his assailant, who appeared to be some teeny-bopper girl with a gothic fashion sense and apparently a large-sized amount of clumsiness as well. D'ya mind watchin' where ya goin, fille? he scowled.  
  
Rogue glared at him from the ground, yanking her gloves back and her skirt down so that they covered as much skin as possible. You were the one who ran into me, she retorted.  
  
Remy snorted. Right, like I could run anywhere wit' all dese boxes. Do ya knock every handsome stranger on his ass or is dat jus' my special privilege?  
  
If Ah knocked every handsome guy I met down, trust me sugah Ah would've avoided you. Damn she was in a mean mood today!  
  
Remy rolled his eyes. Whatever, fille. Here, let me help you up-  
  
Rogue shoved his hand away, getting up on her own. Ah don't need yer help.  
  
Remy grinned, and Rogue had the sudden urge to smack it off his face. Damn you a feisty femme! Do ya have a name or should I just call you Bitchy britches?'  
  
Rogue gaped, but then scowled. Ah'd ask for your name, but Ah don't need it, do ah? Ah can tell who ya are by the swamp-stink and the skanky hairdo already.  
  
Remy grinned again and swept an elegant bow. You didn' ask, but I'll grant anyway. Th'name's Remy Lebeau, master thief, mutant and charmer extraordinaire at your service.  
  
Dear God, could he be any cockier? Aint you the humble picture.  
  
He winked. I try, chere, I try. He swaggered over to Rogue and reached out to grab her chin. But the pretty fille still hasn't given Remy her name-  
  
Rogue swiftly sidestepped his hand, smacking it away. Keep y'hands to yahself, she growled, and the Cajun took a step back, unnerved by her sudden harsh behavior. No one touches me around here.  
  
Remy recovered from his surprise and sneered, very obviously checking out every inch of her body. And why on earths _dat?_ his tone suggestive as hell and his eyes locking on impolite places.  
  
Rogue was too angry to blush. Resisting the urge to give him a swift kick to the balls, she contented herself with happy images of what Logan would do to this man if he heard him saying this. Because Ah'm dangerous, swamp rat, she said, meeting his eyes and trying to look the part. Don't _mess_ with me.  
  
Remy smirked. Ya look about as dangerous as a kitten, p'tite, he said, and was rewarded when Rogue's face contorted with rage. What ya gon' do, hiss at me till I go   
  
Rogue was tempted to use her power to show him just how dangerous she really was, but then again she definitely did _not_ want this guy in her head. Instead she satisfied herself with swinging her boot into Remy's shins.  
  
He yelped and jumped back, obviously not expecting her to react so violently. What ya do dat for? he yelled.  
  
Rogue folded her arms across her chest, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Ah told ya not ta mess with me, didn' I?  
  
Remy glared at her, rubbing his shin where her foot had connected. Now I see why no one wanta touch you, he said. What homme wanna get close wit' a femme in constant PMS?  
  
Rogue was beginning to see red, and she could feel Logan's personality inside her mind, egging her on. Well, maybe Ah wouldn't be so angry if pretty-boy assholes didn't keep smashing into me! What the hell are ya doin' here, anyway? Ya look a little _old_ to be a student here, and Ah doubt yer smart enough to teach.  
  
Remy scowled. For your _informacion,_ Mademoiselle, I am a guest here, so maybe you'd betta be watchin' dat mouth of yours! Aint you to young t'be usin' such naughty words? His scowl turned to a smirk, and he could see how mad being called young made this fille. Score one for him.  
  
Rogue actually hadn't even noticed he'd called her young; her attention was fixed on something else. You're the one stayin' in Logan's old room, aint you? she yelled.  
  
Remy blinked, nonplussed. Who de hell is Logan?  
  
Rogue didn't bother to answer, just turned around and stomped back up the path and through the main doors. Remy called after her, Remy never caught your name, ma belle fille!  
  
IT'S ROGUE! *slam*  
  



	3. Don't get much better than this

A/N: Tonight it was supposed to be an english paper. I wonder what my english teacher would say if I said that Remy threatened to charge my computer if I didn't write this? Could I use that as an excuse?  
  
*grumbles* stupid Marvel. If they would just put the most incredible wonderful character EVER (well-except for Rogue) in the movie, I wouldn't have to do this.  
  
Stupid movie....  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
_All I ever wanted is here with you   
But sometimes I get wrapped up and confused   
So lets go down to the edge of the sand   
Take some time and take my hand   
So much here we don't understand   
So kiss me like the world is going to end   
It don't get much better than this_.  
_  
-Meredith Brooks_  
  
Remy shook his head in amazement as he stared at the mansion door, wondering what the hell had just happened. He wasn't used to this--It had been a _long_ time since anybody had ever disliked him that vehemently on sight, especially a girl.   
  
Remy, what's the matter? You look as if you were just hit by a tornado.  
  
Remy glanced backwards at Storm, who was getting the last of their things out of the car. I'm not so sure I wasn't, he muttered.   
  
Ororo raised an eyebrow, amused. Who was that you were talking to?  
  
Remy snorted. Scarlett O'Hara PMS'in on steroids.  
  
Despite herself, Ororo laughed. Please tell me you're not referring to our Rogue!  
  
Oh, is _dat_ what she called? Remy couldn't tell wit all de ot'er t'ings she shoutin'.  
  
Ororo sighed, and moved to help her friend pick up the discarded boxes. I'm sorry, she's not always like that, she's just had a hard time of it since Logan lef--I mean, since she absorbed Magneto and Wolverine on Liberty Island.  
  
_Again wit' dis Logan' character. Aint someone gon' tell me what's gon' on?_ Remy wondered.   
  
Oooh... she didn't tell you about her mutation, did she? Understanding dawned on Storm's face.  
  
_Non._ All de fille said was, Remy swung his hip out and flipped his hair, striking a sassy feminine pose. Ah'm _dangerous, _swamp rat, he said in a high falsetto. Don't _mess_ with me, hot stuff!  
  
Ororo tried to stop from laughing and failed miserably. She did _not_ call you hot stuff!  
  
Remy smirked. She be t'inkin it, non?  
  
Ororo rolled her eyes. Your humility never ceases to amaze me. Come on, we have to get these boxes up to your room.  
  
Remy followed her inside, complaining. Remind me gain why we had t'buy so much more crap f'r Remy?  
  
Because you showed up with only a ratty suitcase full of thieves instruments and a change of clothes. You needed more than that to come stay here, she explained with the air of someone who has answered the question a bazillion times and will fry you with lightning if you ask again.  
  
An' what makes you t'ink dat I'll be stayin' here long nough to need all dese t'ings?  
  
Remy, you have literally, in your own words, _no where else to go._ And I know that if you, with all your worldwide connections and friends, have nowhere else to go but to a mutant charity house' as you put it, things must be pretty god damn bad. Which means that, no matter what you say to the contrary, you're going to be stuck here for a while, whether you like it or not. She smiled at Remy's dumbfounded expression--she had him absolutely pegged. Didn't know I was so logical, did you? Storm didn't add that she was secretly hoping that maybe he would settle down here, stop running, stop dragging himself half-dead from each town, each heist.   
  
Remy just sighed and resumed his task of dragging his stuff up the stairs. Sure, Stormy, whatever ya say. What were ya sayin' about dat fille's powers before?  
  
Rogue... well, basically she's untouchable. If a person has any skin-to-skin contact with her at all, she'll absorb their memories, personalities and in mutants' case, powers, in the process leaving them pretty much drained of their life force--she could kill if she held on long enough. As it is, most of her victims either pass out or end up in an incredible amount of pain.  
  
Remy whistled. Mon dieu. De fille not kiddin' when she say she's dangerous, non?  
  
She was dead serious. She usually avoids touching anyone, even through layers of clothing--her powers terrify her.  
  
Dey certainly don' stop her from lashin' out at helpless cajuns, muttered Remy, rubbing the spot where she'd kicked him. That was definitely going to bruise.  
  
Ororo's eyes widened in surprise. She _kicked _ you? The weather goddess gave an uncharacteristic giggle. Remy, you must have _really_ pissed her off for her to be willing to touch a complete stranger!  
  
Remy grinned. I try, Stormy. I try.  
  
***  
  
Rogue was sulking. She knew it was childish and petty and stupid, but she couldn't help it: she just didn't feel like facing the world that day. She hadn't been able to sleep at all last night, Bobby wasn't here, her friends were being so annoying, and to top it all off _he_ showed up.  
  
Rogue scowled into her pillow. What had he said his name was again? Remy? What kind of a name was that, anyway? A stupid one, that's for sure.   
  
Rogue didn't know why she hated him so much. He just... god damn he was annoying! He had talked to her for maybe one minute and made her want to kick his teeth in. Not many people had that particular talent--maybe it was his mutant power.  
  
She thought of the way his eyes had roamed all over her and shuddered. She hoped he would stare at Jean that way and get blasted through a wall by her husband. Probably wouldn't be the first time, either--he was such a skeeve, he probably got caught by angry husbands all the time...  
  
Rogue sat up, angrily punching her bed. She wished Logan were here! It wasn't that she wanted him to skewer the stupid swamp rat--she could take care of herself, dammit--but no one could calm her down like he could. She could go to talk to him and start out absolutely raging mad, and a minute later she would just be sitting with him, resting her head on his shoulder, pondering how someone as feral as him could smell so damn good.   
  
Before she could wallow in self-pity any further, a small but incredibly hyper explosion burst into the room. Jubilation Lee was back.  
  
Ohmigod Rogue, did you see him?! Jubilee panted--she had obviously ran back to her room.  
  
Rogue blinked, utterly confused. Uh, who is this him' that I'm supposed to see?  
  
Jubilee threw her arms in the air dramatically. Is there any other him' in the universe? No, there is and always will be only one HIM, only one man that gorgeous, that charming, that sexy, that-  
  
Jubilee, tell me who the hell you're talkin' bout already.  
  
Jubilee sat down on the bed, a dreamy look in her eyes. The name's Lebeau. She let a dreamy little sigh escape her lips. Remy Lebeau.  
  
Rogue stared for a minute and then let out a disgusted, revolted, absolutely-terrifying-to-hear shriek.  
  
Jubilee yelped, covering her ears. What the heck, Rogue? What'd I do??  
  
Rogue stared at her friend as if she'd sprouted two heads. You said ITS name. You called IT sexy and attractive!  
  
Jubilee shook her head, staring at her friend. It's finally happened, hasn't it? Logan's personality finally drove you into the deep end.  
  
Rogue glared. Ah can't believe what yer sayin' about that... that...  
  
Sexy hunk of man-flesh?  
  
Smelly cheap slime-ball excuse of a man!  
  
Oh, you're one to talk! Jubilee said huffily. At least _I_ don't like guys with out-of-control sideburns who think a night in a Canadian bar is a romantic date!  
  
Rogue winced at the truth of the statement. Leave Logan out of it.  
  
Jubilee rolled her eyes. Suuure. What's the deal, anyway? Why don't you like Remy?  
  
Rogue snorted. Oh, so we're on first-name basis now, are we?  
  
Just answer the damn question.  
  
Rogue sighed, lying back down on her bed. What's to _like_ about him? He stinks, he's arrogant, he's totally sleazy-  
  
-he's charming, he's sexy, he's GORGEOUS-  
  
-and he seems determined to get into the pants of every single girl on the planet.  
  
Aw, come on, how do you know he's such a bad guy? He's been here for, like, two minutes, you can't have had more than one conversation with him...  
  
Rogue gave her friend a dirty look. I just know, all right? Besides, how the hell do _you_ know that he's so wonderfully wonderful?  
  
Because he _is,_ duh. Any woman who isn't _blind_ can see that.  
  
Rogue sniffed. Please-he wasn't _that_ cute-  
  
You frikkin' liar! You think he's hot and you _know_ it, chica!  
  
Are you _kidding_ me? He looks and _smells_ like some alligator from a Loos'ana swamp.  
  
Sacrilege! How can you say that?! Those eyes, that hair, that _body-  
  
_Oh, gag me with a spoon already. Honestly Jubes, that's low standards even for you.  
  
Okay, you _have_ to admit you at least think he's attractive. Come on Rogue, you can't ignore universal truth here!  
  
Rogue glared. He looks like a Ken doll--probably that well equipped, too.  
  
Oh, you're horrible.  
  
Rogue grinned, the resemblance to Logan unmistakable. I try, Jubes. I try.  
  
***  
  
Anyone could tell just from looking at Carol Danvers that she was a government agent. She had that walk, that talk, that air around her that exuded confidence. Everything about her said, I am stronger than you, smarter than you, tougher than you and if you try _anything_ I will knock you through a wall. And in Carol's case, she actually could.  
  
She ignored the appraising looks and the few whistles that accompanied her on her way to meet Nick. The Pentagon was filled with so many people, most of them strangers, that it would take too long to track down each person and let him know the exact reasons why no one ever looked at her with that kind of disrespect. Besides, Carol had other things on her mind today. She'd received word from one of her many connections that S.H.I.E.L.D. had a new lead on the Hellfire Club, one that would need investigating. And Carol was damned if she let Nick send anyone else but her on the job.  
  
She had some scores to settle with the Hellfire Club.  
  
She swung open the door to Nick Fury's office, and grinned when he looked up from his paperwork, startled enough that he almost jumped. She loved being able to surprise him--so few people could. Hello, Nick.  
  
He scowled. I hate it when you call me that, Carol. Why can't you call me by my last name like everyone else.  
  
Because it annoys you, Nick. Besides, it reminds you that you're human, and I'm of the opinion that you definitely need some reminding every once in a while. She took a seat, not waiting to be asked. I'll cut to the chase, Nick m'dear. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes. You acquired some new leads on the Hellfire Club, and need someone to investigate. I'm taking the job.  
  
Nick sighed, a regretful look on his face. I.. don't think you want to do that, Carol.  
  
Oh really? Why the heck not?  
  
There's... more to it than you heard. This case requires immediate action, and it has to be done very carefully. It's a Big Deal.  
  
All the more reason for me to do it. I'm your best agent, remember?  
  
Nick rolled his eyes. Nothing if not humble. Seriously, Carol, I just don't think it's a good idea--what with your personal connections to the club and Mike's death-  
  
It was two years ago, Nick. Honestly, do you think I'm made of porcelain? she snapped. Nick was silent--there was no need to tell her what she already knew: that she wasn't over Mike's death, and never would be.   
  
Carol sighed, staring out the window. I _need_ to take this job, Nick. I've been so bored lately, and the Hellfire Club... I'll be _damned_ if I see them hurt anyone else.  
  
Carol, I really don't think-  
  
I'm taking this job whether you like it or not, Nick.  
  
Nick groaned. Wasn't he supposed to be her boss or something like that? He could've _sworn_ he was her boss... All right, fine Carol, whatever. But if you screw this one up, I'm not going to listen to your excuses, got it?  
  
She smiled brilliantly. Well then, I'll just avoid screwing up, won't I?  
  
He sighed. Sure, Carol. Whatever you say. It wasn't that bad, he guessed; Carol _was_ his best agent. Her mutation gave her definite advantages over the all-too-human Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club.  
  
It was nothing she couldn't handle.  
  
***  
  
Rogue slumped down the stairs, deciding that 8:30 in the morning was definitely far too early for any sane person to be awake. Chock up another sleepless night: she'd dreamt about Bobby _again_, only this time his face was replaced by Logan's halfway through the dream.  
  
God damn that annoying subconscious.  
  
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Rogue immediately wanted to turn right back around and head for her bed. There he was, the slime-ball in person, surrounded by Jubilee, Kitty, and what seemed like every other teenaged girl on the premises.  
  
Rogue was about to turn around when he caught her eye. His charming smile changed to a leer, and he deliberately let his eyes wander all over her best parts.   
  
Rogue glared back with all the fierceness she could muster that early, crossing her arms over her chest and stomped past him, rudely shoving his shoulders as he past. What's de matter, chere? Remy called after her. No good morning kiss? She just flipped him the bird over her shoulder and continued walking, muttering about telling Storm exactly where she should shove her new friend.  
  
She was chowing down on a bowl of Lucky Charms and of course blessed coffee when he waltzed in. Rogue looked up from the magazine she'd been reading and groaned upon seeing him.  
  
Remy just grinned. If Remy didn' know better, he'd say de fille don' like him.  
  
Wow, you realized?? Damn, you're smarter than Ah thought.  
  
Remy rolled his eyes. You're too sarcastic f'r yer own good, ya know dat?  
  
I have no idea what on earth you mean.  
  
He smirked. 'S all right, chere. Luckily, I know dat breaking mah shinbone be a sign of ffection, but you migh' wanna watch it--ot'ers ya meet might not be as quick on de uptake as Remy is.  
  
Groaning, Rogue stood up, taking her cereal and coffee into the den.  
  
Jubilee and John, playing foosball at the time, took one look at the sleep-deprived Rogue and knew better than to attempt talking to her right now. Too bad, though, that they couldn't pass on that information to other concerned parties--because, not two minutes after Rogue came in, she heard,  
  
Ya know, ya really should take a look at dat temper of yours, chere. It cost you a few friends, non?  
  
Rogue sighed, throwing down the book she'd been reading. Is your skull too damn thick to realize that Ah _do not_ want to talk to you, Cajun?  
  
Remy grinned. Ah, but Remy want t'talk to you, chere, he replied, leaning close so she could smell his bourbon-tinged breath. He like feisty femmes.  
  
Rogue glared at him, scooting as far away from him as she could. Yeah? Well, Ah'm not feisty,' swamp rat--Ah just don't like you.  
  
Remy put a hand to his chest, sighing dramatically. Ah, chere! You wound dis Cajun, ya really do.  
  
Scowling, Rogue resumed drinking her coffee.  
  
Silence for a while. Then, Stormy told me bout yer powers.  
  
Rogue choked, spluttering coffee over the couch.   
  
Remy grinned, making suggestive movements with his hips. Guess dat means ya have ta use a full body condom when yer rollin' in de hay, non?  
  
Rogue just threw her coffee in his face and stomped out.   
  
The den was silent for a few moments as Remy sat shell-shocked, coffee dripping from his hair. Then Jubilee couldn't help it: she burst into a helpless fit of giggles, helplessly doubled over the pool table. Remy, on the other hand, scowled at her and ran after the cranky southern belle.  
  
Why de _hell_ did ya do dat?!  
  
Rogue almost screamed in frustration. Do ya just _not_ take hints of when to leave me the hell alone, Cajun?  
  
He glared at her, shaking coffee from his bangs, and Rogue had to giggle at the sight of him, his no-doubt-expensive-as-hell shirt and hairdo dripping with cafe au lait. You got a _real bad_ anger problem, ya know dat?  
  
And _you've_ got a problem with showin' up everywhere Ah turn and makin' me miserable!  
  
Remy shook his head incredulously. I don' believe dis. _I'm _ de one drippin' in coffee, and _she's_ de one yelling!  
  
Rogue could see the beginnings of an audience beginning to form, but she didn't care. Oh woops, did Ah muss up your hair? Ah'm ever so sorry!  
  
Are ya always dis much of a bitch or did I get ya at de wrong time of de month?  
  
Oh yeah, they _definitely_ had an audience by now. Ah'm only a bitch when little pricks like you make me waste cups of perfectly good coffee!  
  
He jerked angrily, mock-bowing. Please, _forgive_ Remy the ultimate crime of tryin' ta talk to de mansion's resident spoiled psycho princess! Did ya highness want a beheadin' or is a temper tantrum good   
  
You arrogant little-  
  
Don' tell me--Remy's a bastard, right? He shook his head, making tsk sounds. Ya really need to broaden de vocab, highness-  
  
Oh, cause you sound so much smarter--at least Ah speak real english!  
  
Is dis what happens to folks dat speak real english? If it is, count me out!  
  
Don't worry, swamp rat! Rogue whirled around, shoving through the crowd as she stormed upstairs. Ah already have!   
  
Remy watched her go, ignoring the snickers and whispers of the whispers around him. He could feel cold coffee trickling down the back of his neck, and he secretly knew that he would always remember this shirt fondly. Dat's too bad, chere, he said to himself. 'Cause I certainly haven't--guess de chase is on, non?


	4. Shutting him up

A/N: Okay, so you know how earlier I said that it'd been only one year since Remy was exiled from the Guilds? Well, I lied. It is now three. And I can do that, because I'm the author and I says so.  
  
Also, to clear up a couple things you guys asked about in your reviews: As to the Storm thing, yeah she is a bit OC in this. I loved the movies, but frankly HATED the way Halle Berry played Storm. I'm sorry, but is giving her a personality too much of a challenge for Ms. Berry? (*ahem* sorry... got a little carried away there) So I've given my Storm a little more steel, a little more spunk in this fic.  
  
Also, questions as to whether Rogue is being too hard on Gambit. My answer is no--they're ALWAYS being hard on each other in the comics! In one incident, during a b-ball game Gambit charges a basketball and chucks it at Rogue, sending her through several walls. But don't worry, they start liking each other soon after this chapter! :)  
  
I looooooooovvve your reviews guys! It is completely thanks to you that this fic is going at all well! Please keepi t up!  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
_Could I do what it takes to shut you off?  
Now don't be so sure but don't make me have to find out  
cuz I feel lucky, you look nice  
and I'm not gonna say it twice,  
You're in my car now.  
  
-Letters to Cleo  
  
_Gambit, really, can't you just leave her alone? Storm was rapidly getting tired of the games between those two. It had been two weeks since his arrival at the mansion, and she had just witnessed Rogue storming off for the umpteenth time after another fight with Gamit.  
  
Remy scowled. You actin' like it's all one-sided, Stormy. Or did ya forget dat she takes every opportunity she can t'tell me jus' why I'm an asshole?   
  
True, but you always seek her out. Can't you see that maybe she doesn't desire your company as much as you'd like to think?  
  
He grinned, stretching languidly. Ah, de femme jus' need to get used to Remy, dat's all.  
  
Storm shook her head, smiling. Well, you've got one thing going for you, Remy--you really do never give up.  
  
He was quiet for a second, his fiery eyes unreadable. Then, I gotta go, Stormy. See ya round, weather goddess.   
  
Once in his room, Remy slumped against the locked door, his telltale charm and humor replaced by fatigue. He had been up most of the night, trying to track down scraps of info from the few friendly contacts he still had in the Guilds, and despite how much he wanted it _not_ to be the case, all the clues pointed to one fact:  
  
The Assassins were after him. And that meant... Bella Donna.  
  
Remy frowned. He'd thought that she forgave him those years ago, when he was forced to flee, he thought she hadn't held her brother's death against him. But if the Assassins were after him, it could only mean that Donna was heading the deal.  
  
He began pacing the room, his long legs making short work of the cramped apartment, but Remy didn't care at the moment. He had hoped to leave all his feuds and enemies behind him when he left N'Awlins (granted, he'd acquired three times as many in the time he was away), but this... this was bad. No one survived when the Assassins were actively marking them--and it looked like that was the case now--and he didn't have the protection of the Thieves Guild anymore. They would be no help.  
  
Remy stopped pacing, as a new thought occurred to him. The Assassins Guild--they were ruthless, they didn't really care who they went through on the way to a target. And as long as he was under Xavier's protection, they would have to go through most of this school to get to Remy.  
  
For some odd reason, he didn't like that thought. He didn't like it at all.  
  
Images of mutant children running screaming from trained assassins flooded Remy's imaginative mind, and he winced as he recognized Rogue's face amongst them. Normally, he would be grateful for Xavier's people getting in the way--give him more time to get away, after all--but there were children here. Not to mention the debt he owed to Ororo--she had let him stay here, absolutely no strings attached, asking nothing in return. And despite Scott's obvious dislike of him, the fact that he was letting Remy stay at all attested to his good heart.  
  
Stormy was his friend, and a good one at that. And Charles Xavier was a good man, trying his best to make something kind and beautiful in a cruel and unpleasant world. Remy respected that. Could he really, in all good conscience, stay here knowing that they would all be attacked and it would be his fault?  
  
And then of course, there was the girl.  
  
Remy cursed some more and resumed his pacing. Dammit! She was bent as hell on making his life as miserable as possible whenever he was around, and he had to admit that she was succeeding. At first Remy had just wanted to have some fun with her, figuring she played hard to get, but now she was actually able to get a rise out of him, making him as cranky as she was herself.  
  
So why did he keep doing it? Groaning in frustration, Remy sat on the bed, his head in his hands. There was just something about her, something that stirred inside him when she made him so angry--and something that made her far too sexy for her own good whenever she got angry. He wanted, _needed_ that look at her eyes, the one she got right before she was about to throw coffee in his face or ram her foot into his shin, and that's why he always came back to piss her off, despite the bad mood it always left him in afterwards.  
  
He was already addicted.  
  
But that wasn't all of it, of course. Her wit, her pouts, the laughter he overheard when she was with her friends... they all entoxicated him, pulling the reluctant but enthralled Cajun in before he even knew what was going on.  
  
Remy knew what this feeling was. He'd felt it before. He didn't like it.  
  
And so, of course he wanted to stay for her. He wanted to see what her face looked like when she smiled around him, something he had yet to witness; he wanted to feel the texture of her hair, he wanted to hold her when she needed him.  
  
But if he stayed, she would just get hurt like all the others.  
  
Almost screaming in frustration, Remy grabbed his coat and headed for the door. It was never good to think about these things for too long when sober.  
  
***  
  
Rogue snapped out of the dream, sitting straight up in bed and immediately falling to the floor as the sheets she'd tangled herself in brought her down. Rogue forced herself to breathe and extricate herself from the sheets _slowly,_ instead of yowling like a wildcat and fighting fiercely until the sheets were vanquished, like the Logan personality in the back of her head was itching to do.  
  
Having dispatched the sheets, Rogue stood up shakily. Her dream, the one that it all came back to her.  
  
She only remembered bits and pieces of it, but that was enough to give her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach: Bobby, caressing her with icy hands and then the fear in his eyes as he stiffened in pain and passed out. Logan, his face the mirror of rage as he rammed six blades into her heart. A wave of pain and anguish and death, rolling over New York City, straight from her and she could do nothing to stop it. Cody, pale as death and choking on her bed, the last expression she would ever se in his face was fear...  
  
And red on black devil eyes, just out of reach, goading her, laughing at her, daring her to be more than she could, asking her why she couldn't save Cody, why she almost caused the death of an entire city, why she had to walk into Logan's bedroom that night, why she would always be nothing but an angry Rogue.  
  
Rogue shivered. He hadn't been scary in her dream, or even angry, just... challenging. It was her own reaction that scared her. She had felt... desire. Yearning. Lust, even-  
  
Rogue stopped her train of thought there. Yeah, right! Her, wanting that slimeball--that'd be the day. She smirked Logan-like to the darkness, and let herself revel in the cockiness of his ghost-persona. What the hell did a dream mean, anyway?  
  
All sorts of nasty little answers came with that question, and Rogue didn't want to think about any of them. What she needed was some fresh air. Standing up and grabbing a pair of gloves--just in case--Rogue stepped out of her room.  
  
Once outside, she relaxed, breathing deeply and noting with a smile that it had just rained. The air was fresh and cold, still a bit dewey and damp from the shower. She hoped that didn't mean Ororo had been crying...  
  
She let her thoughts drift to Bobby, and almost felt guilty--she knew he wanted her to come to him when she was awake and upset like this, but how could he possibly understand? He was the Iceman, he had a great power that hardly inconvienced him at all (it even let him touch his supposedly untouchable girlfriend), he'd had a family and friends all his life. How could he know what it felt like to have nightmares that weren't your own? To dream about pale green laboratories and sharp objects, to dream about concentration camps and a boy who experienced humanity at its absolute worst at only ten years old...  
  
She turned a corner in the forest outside the mansion and stopped immediately, cursing under her breath. She so did not need this right now!  
  
Remy Lebeau whirled around to face her, his red eyes glowing and his bo-staff half out before he realized who it was that had snuck up on him. His shoulders slumped, and he scowled. I aint in de mood f'r your mouth right now, Rogue, he said bluntly. Leave me   
  
Rogue clenched her fists, trying to tamp down the anger that was rising in her. What a coincidence, I aint in the mood for you either, swamp rat, she snapped. She looked beyond him and groaned inwardly: the spot he'd chosen to hang out tonight was right where she was heading--the dock and boardwalk that encircled the lake. It was one of the most peaceful spots on the grounds, as she guessed Remy had already figured out.   
  
He sneered. Well den, m'belle, looks like we agree on somethin, f'once, he said. You don' wanna deal wit' me, I don' wanna deal wit' you, so why don' ya jus' keep on walkin, oui?   
  
She wanted to smack the condescending tone right out of his mouth. Ah would, but this was where ah was headin', she retorted. So why don't ya jus' find someone else some_where_ else to annoy, Cajun?  
  
_What?_ I got here first! he said indignantly.  
  
And Ah live here!   
  
He bared his teeth, his eyes flaring in the darkness. Dammit, why did this fille always have to be so difficult? Fine, den, he snapped, You go sit over dere and Remy'll be here, out of ya highness sight. Happy now? Rogue just glared at him and went to sit on the edge of the dock.   
  
Silence reined for a while. Rogue wrinkled her nose as she heard him inhale a cigarette--damn, she hated that smell! Men who smoked were always the same: smelly, arrogant, skeevy, addicted--she stopped when she realized that she never saw Logan without a cigar on hand, and blushed at her hypocrisy. Well, maybe smokers weren't that bad...  
  
Gambit sighed as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. What was she thinking of? Did she know how much she affected him, other than just pissing him off? He gritted his teeth in frustration. No matter how he felt about her, he couldn't deal with Rogue right now: he had come out here to calm down and think rationally about this mess with the Assassins Guild, and now just her presence was making him edgy. What you out here f'r, chere? he said, letting the question slip before he thought about it.   
  
Ah thought ya didn' wanna talk to me, she replied icily, not turning to face him.  
  
Remy clenched his fists in frustration. he snapped. I don'.  
  
Silence again. Then, Ah couldn't sleep, all right?! Ah... ah had a bad dream. Rogue felt like kicking herself the moment the words were out of her mouth. No doubt now he'd give her crap about having nightmares like a little kid, wetting her bed maybe--  
  
Me, too, he sighed. Rogue glanced at him, surprised. She hadn't expected him to reply with an honest answer, or to talk to her at all without goading her. What ya dream   
  
Rogue was about to say, None of your business, but bit her tongue. He was talking to her like a decent human being, not teasing or trying to piss her off or anything--would it be so incredibly painful to return the favor? Besides, she didn't have the energy to fight right now. It was about a buncha things, Ah guess. Mostly stuff that happened last year.  
  
Remy walked closer to her. What kinda   
  
Just stuff. Her tone clearly said that she didn't want to talk about it, and though Remy was more curious than he liked to admit he let the subject to drop.   
  
How does your power work? Remy could have kicked himself. He'd just blurted that out, forgetting that the girl he was talking to was as likely to slug him as to answer him, letting curiosity get the best of him. He braced himself for a blow.  
  
Rogue stiffened, turning to glare at him. Why the hell should _you_ care? she said.  
  
Oh, so now it's a crime t'be curious?  
  
What's it ta you, swamp rat?  
  
I jus' asked! Scuse me f'r t'inkin dat mebbe ya wouldn' wanta start World War 3 over a question! She just glared at him and turned back to stare at the lake. He was unwilling to let her go, however. Seems to me dat you're overreactin' a bit bout ya power, if ya ask me, he said, feigning nonchalance.  
  
She whipped around, staring openmouthed at him. _Overreactin?_ Are ya _kiddin' _me?! Why don't ya shove yer-  
  
All Remy be sayin', _chere,_ is dat you're treatin' dis whole t'ing way too paranoid f'r your own good. Here y'are, wit a power dat enables ya to steal _any_ ot'er mutant's power--d'ya have any idea what ya could do wit' dat? No one could stand in your way if ya used your powers right, chere. Ya'd be invincible.  
  
Rogue stared at him as if he'd grown two extra heads. Ya just don't get it, do ya cajun? she said, her voice quivering with anger. Ah don't want power! Ah don't want a buncha fucking weasels wimpering n sniffling, ready ta obey my every command just cause Ah'm a mutant! She stood up, her movements made jerky and clumsy by the anger coursing through her veins. Good night, _Remy_.  
  
He caught her wrist, pulling her back down, but she viciously jerked her arm away from him. Don't touch me, dammit!  
  
Oh, listen to ya self already! Remy stood up, following her as she tried to stomp away. I can understand you're a bit angry wit' dem powers, but dey're not de end o' de world like ya always make dem out to be!   
  
She twisted around to face him, rage and pain etched on her features. How the hell would _you_ know, Remy? You've never had to live your life without touchin' _anyone_. How can ya possibly know what it's like?  
  
He met her eyes calmly, refusing to let her see the effect she was having on him. Ya know, chere, I'll bet dat whatever happens to your victims' once dey've touched you isn't as bad as you t'ink.   
  
Rogue stared at him, unable to believe the ignorance of what he'd just said. She threw up her arms with a cry of frustration and turnd around, determined to leave this crazy Cajun and get back to her blessed bed. It was too damn late for this!  
  
Unfortunately, Remy had other plans. T'ink about it chere! He quickened his pace till he was right behind her. Have ya ever killed anyone? Have ya ever seriously damaged anyone--and don't give me dat story bout your first kiss an' everythin', everyone hurts or kills someone de firs' time deir mutant power shows.   
  
He caught her arm, trying to get her to face him, but she twisted out of his grip. Leave me alone, Remy. Her voice held no venom or anger, but it was thick with a hurt that tore at Remy's heart to hear. He didn't know why he was doing this, why he kept picking at her when she was in such misery, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't make himself let her go, he was like a grade-school boy that showed his affections by teasing his favorite girl every day....  
  
If ya t'ink your powers are so bad, chere, why don' ya test dem on Remy and he'll make de decision for ya? The challenge was out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. Touch me, Rogue. Touch Remy and let him be de judge of whether or not you got it so bad, oui?  
  
Shut the hell up, cajun, was her angry reply as she kept walking. Ya don't know what you're askin!  
  
Oui, I t'ink I do. Touch me, Rogue--I bet ya skin isn't really as deadly as everyone t'inks. I bet ya just use it to trick everyone into t'inkin you're dis delicate, fragile chere dat needs all deir help. I bet ya just hiding behind dat power of yours so ya don't have to get close to anyone. I bet-  
  
Before he could finish the sentence, Rogue let out a scream of frustration and whirled around, kissing him with all her might.  
  
  
****  
  
Oh, wow, I'm evil. You know I leave endings like that solely to torture you guys, right? ;)


	5. God save the king of New Orleans

A/N: Ugh. Being sick SUCKS! I had to break my vegetarian-ness to eat an instant lunch chicken-noodle bowl thing, cause that was the only thing around here to eat for lunch and I'm way too weak to mosey on down to the cafeteria (I go to boarding school).  
  
What I wouldn't give for an hour-long bath.  
  
Anyway, enough of my gripes. Perhaps y'all should be happy I'm sick, cuz it gave me time to write another (hopefully) wonderful chappie! I know this took a while, but it's trés long and a lot happens.   
  
Oh, and I'll try to have the characters explain the Guilds to satisfaction and understandibility (shut up, I'm sick I can make up words), but seeing as this is movieverse if anyone feels confused just shout out in your review and I'll explain it thoroughly next chappie. K?  
  
Enjoy!  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
_Did you see him on the street, did you pass him at your feet   
Did you think at all,   
How dare he even look me in the eye?   
And he loves the girls,and he loves the boys   
Gonna make twenty dollars 'fore the weekend's over   
So set him up then let him fall   
Turn him over in your hands   
God save the king of New Orleans__.   
  
-_Better than Ezra_  
  
_  
  
Sometimes Logan really hated his healing factor. For instance, at times like this, when all he wanted to do was get piss-drunk and spend the night vomiting and unable to walk in a straight line. Hangover and all, he didn't care; he just wanted something to take him out of what he was feeling.  
  
He scowled into his beer. He didn't even know why she affected him so much; Jeannie was just another hot chick, after all. And he went through those by the dozen.  
  
Maybe it was the fact that she was married to such a prick that made her so enticing. Maybe it was the fire in her eyes whenever she got angry. Dammit, maybe it had just been so long since he'd met a woman who was his equal--in smarts, in passion, in power.   
  
But she had rejected him. Jeannie had chosen to stay with her boy scout of a husband, leaving Logan to wander alone once more. Not that she really told him to leave--in fact, she'd asked him not to--but he wasn't going to spend his time sitting around the mansion all day just watching her cuddle with One-Eye. He had better things to do.  
  
_Like what?_ a sneaky voice in his head asked. _Travel from one skanky bar to the next, perfecting the art of binge-drinking and one-night stands?_ He tried to drown the voice in beer, unsuccessfully. So, okay, he wasn't exactly spending his time in any grand, adventurous, world-saving way--who the hell cared? It was how he'd lived long before he ran into those X-geeks, and just because his life didn't conveniently fit into their set of morals didn't mean he was going to change his whole life around. These bars were a helluva lot more interesting than anything back at that damn mansion.  
  
Rogue. She was back at that damn mansion. Logan sighed, wishing he could just forget about her, although even now the though of her made the corners of his lips tug into an almost smile. He wondered how she was doing: if she was still hopelessly flustered by just one advance of Bobby's, if she still bit her lip in that cute way whenever she was embarrassed, whether she and that little firecracker friend of hers still had that crazy theory about Lucky Charms and coffee being a sixth and absolutely necessary food group.   
  
His smile disappeared as he remembered that night, more than a year ago, when he'd met her on the train. He'd never seen anyone look as hurt, as confused, as vulnerable as she did on that leather seat. He remembered looking into her eyes and wanting to cry, there was so much pain hidden there. Then, she had let him hold her, little sobs shaking her body so subtly, as she tried desperately to pretend she wasn't crying, that she was still strong, terrified that he would leave her like all the others...  
  
_And isn't that what I ended up doin'?_ Logan cringed. He hadn't been able to save her then, when Magneto came and stole his Marie from him, stole the only thing that had let him feel human in years. He hadn't taken care of her', like he'd promised, and he wasn't taking care of her now.  
  
Logan slammed a fist down on the counter, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from the bar's fellow patrons. Godammit! It just wasn't in his nature to stay in any one place for long, especially some place like the X-mansion, couldn't she see that?! _She never hated you for leaving,_ that damn voice whispered to him._ It's you that knows what you're doing is wrong._   
  
He growled low in his throat. He didn't want to face Jean again, the guilt that would be in her eyes and the lust that he knew was still there for him; he didn't want to deal with Scott's smug looks, knowing he had and would keep the girl.  
  
But he missed her. He missed Marie, more than he'd missed anyone in a long time. His insides felt wracked with guilt, confusion and frustration as he thought of the way he'd left her, yet again, like everyone had. What he would give to just see her smile again, just know that she was all right.  
  
He sighed, slapping a few bills down and standing to go, not bothering to finish his beer. He knew what he had to do.  
  
****  
  
Looking back, Rogue didn't know why she did it. Whenever Jubilee or Kitty asked her about it later, she pleaded temporary insomnia, or perhaps the twinkie defense. She told Remy she did it to make him shut the hell up.  
  
Whatever the reason, Rogue found her lips smashed against his, and for a second the whole world stopped. He recovered almost instantly from the shock of her throwing herself at him, and his kiss burned as hot as everything else about him. Rogue could feel her knees go weak, and she knew that nothing else existed right then, she wasn't Rogue, she wasn't untouchable or tortured or haunted, she was just here, now, touching-  
  
It took her a second to realize what his suddenly stiff lips meant. Then the images came, one after another, memories and thoughts and power at her fingertips...  
  
Panicking, she shoved him away with all her might, not even looking as he fell to the ground. Grabbing her head with both hands, she moaned as the influx of Remy threatened to overwhelm her. Pictures flashed by: a glowing card, flashing in the dark of some forsaken pit; a cocky rich gentleman, staring down at the teenage boy, not realizing he was being robbed of all his wealth; a beautiful girl, smiling wide and opening her legs wider...  
  
_All right, that's_ enough,Rogue thought at that last memory. Gritting her teeth, she clamped down on his memory and personality, shoving them sloppily to the back of her brain. She'd deal with it later.   
  
Opening her eyes, Rogue gasped as she saw Remy sprawled on the forest floor. She crouched by his side, tentatively reaching out with a gloved hand to touch his shoulder. Are--are ya all right?  
  
Think of the worst hangover you've ever had. Now combine that with the most crowded day at Disneyland, where none of the rides are working and hence every child within a five-mile radius is screaming. Multiply that by a thousand, and Remy Lebeau still laughs at your pain, for it doesn't even come close to the agony he felt at that moment.  
  
Remy gasped, trying desperately to get his lungs to listen to him and inhale. They weren't complying, and his chest seemed to be on the verge of imploding--which was just slightly annoying. He looked up at Rogue, trying to get his eyes to focus on the pretty fille before him, trying to find the words to say he was all right... _Mon dieu,_ he said instead, barely even having the strength to utter the words. He tried to stand but stumbled, and was surprised when strong arms caught him.  
  
Don' say Ah didn' warn ya, Cajun, he heard a voice say harshly. Dear god, was that really _her_ voice? It sounded so--_masculine..._ You asked f'r dis.  
  
Rogue cringed at the sound of her brand new cajun accent. Dammit! What the _hell _had she just done? Having his voice and his personality leaking out was the last thing she wanted...  
  
She moved to catch him again as he stumbled forward, his face ashen. A surge of guilt washed over her, and she cursed under her breath. Sure, he'd asked for it, but he hadn't known what he was getting into, hadn't known that he would be sharing his most private memories with her, that he would be putting his life in her hands. She had hurt him, just like Cody, just like... Logan.  
  
She felt another wave of guilt as she thought of him, of her feelings toward him, and the kiss she'd just given Remy. What would he think of her for this? It would hurt him, no doubt--_And yet you don't feel guilty because of Bobby, do you?_ remarked a nasty little voice in her head, but Rogue shoved it to the side.  
  
She kneeled down on the ground, putting a hand cautiously on his shoulder, steadying him. His chest was heaving, but Rogue knew that he couldn't feel oxygen in his lungs--the voices in her head had all explicitly told her just what it felt like to touch her. Dat... dat some kiss you got, chere, he said weakly, a trace of his old smile coming to his lips. But then his bravado disappeared, and he gasped again, doubling over in pain.  
  
Remy shuddered, letting the pressure flow over him in waves. It was almost over--it had to be. Silence reigned as he panted, trying to get enough oxygen to his brain.  
  
Finally, Remy felt somewhat normal again. Weak as a kitten, yes, but normal. He glanced up, and Rogue met his eyes for a second before turning away and angrily folding her arms over her chest, her mouth twisted into a bitter expression. What were ya sayin' swamp rat? That mah powers aint as bad as they're made out to be?  
  
Remy grimaced--he hated having to eat his own words. I admit it, chere, dat skin o' yours packs a mean punch--it's def'nitely de most painful t'ing Remy ever felt. But I still maintain dat you takin' t'ings too seriously, ma belle--let's face it, I'm not dead, not even injured really, and you seem to be just fine- he smirked, knowing how irritating he was. So what's de big deal?  
  
Rogue stared at him, expressionless. You don't know, she whispered, her voice barely audible. You don't know what it's like to be a prisoner, an outsider, in your own mind. She stood up abruptly, brushing grass off her pants. Goodnight, Remy.  
  
He caught her wrist as she turned to go, but she shoved him away, harder than necessary, and Remy found himself sprawled back on the ground--he was still weak.  
  
He sighed, staring up at a full moon and stars so bright they seemed to be mocking him. If he thought he had a lot on his mind before, it was nothing compared to the thoughts and feelings buzzing through his head now, not to mention the lingering after-effects of touching Rogue. La Luna, Dans quoi est-ce que je me suis entré?*   
  
  
  
  
*What have I gotten myself into?  
***  
  
Rogue played absently with her spoon, dipping it in and out of her bowl of cereal but not taking a bite. For some reason, she just didn't feel like eating breakfast this morning--instead, she found herself having odd cravings for gumbo.  
  
She sighed, and attempted to focus on her history textbook--she had a test in half an hour which she had conveniently not studied for. No use--her mind kept wandering away from the significance of the Articles of Confederation and back to a certain Cajun and the way the moon peeked from behind the clouds last night, when he asked her to touch him.  
  
Shaking her head to clear it, Rogue adjusted her notebook and took a bite of cereal, reading again about the different strategies of the federalists and the anti-federalists, desperately ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut that told her she was going to fail this test no matter what she did.  
  
Au revoir, ma cherie, a voice said behind her. Long time no see. Rogue barely glanced up when he entered the room, moaning inwardly as his voice set off another flood of borrowed memories. she muttered before burying herself in the textbook once more.  
  
Remy stepped back dramatically, one hand over his heart. Quoi? What's dis? No scathing remarks, no violent reactions to my entrance? He narrowed his eyes, feigning suspicion. Who are you n what've you done wit' Rogue?  
  
Marie glared at him over her breakfast and books. If ya _want_ me to hate you Ah can_,_ _Gambit._  
  
Remy winced at the sound of his other name. Ah Rogue, it jus' take some gettin' used to, you bein' civil to me, non?  
  
She sighed. Don't worry, swamp rat, I'll act normal again soon--the only reason Ah haven't left the room or yelled at ya is cause Ah'm too damn tired.  
  
He smirked. It's Remy's handsome face dat's keepin' you up all night, oui?  
  
Your memories, more like, she retorted. She hesitated, glancing at him, and decided that curiosity took precedence over fighting with him at the moment. What's the Thieves Guild?  
  
His reaction was interesting. Remy's face immediately paled, and he sat up straighter, narrowing his flashing eyes. How'd ya know?  
  
She smiled sweetly. Ah told ya--Ah absorb the memories of my victims, along with their personalities and powers.  
  
He glared at her, his joking demeanor gone. How much d'ya know?  
  
Rogue hesitated. She loved having one up on him, but if she wanted answers she was going to have to play nice. Oh, not _that_ much, she said, knowing that he would go crazy wondering what she meant. But Ah can't really sort through em all. Yet.   
  
Remy cursed mentally. He'd forgotten that, once she absorbed him, she would know _everything_ about him--or almost everything. He didn't know how much she absorbed, how permanent it was, how much she could understand.   
  
She was seated on the couch next to him, and now she leaned in closer, her big brown eyes wide, curious, refusing to look away. Tell me about the Thieves Guild.  
  
He sighed. There was no getting around it. Dey a sort of... organization, based in N'awlins. The Guild is de home of pretty much any t'ief who has any pride in himself, an' dey're one of de most powerful driving forces in de city.  
  
Rogue narrowed her eyes. He had used a lot of words to say almost nothing. There's another Guild, though... who are they?  
  
He scowled. Dat would be de Assassins Guild, de T'ieves reg'lar enemy. Dey de same t'ing as de T'ieves Guild, cept guess who dey're made up of. He leered and sat up, leaning closer to her, making Rogue scoot back apprehensively. Dat was some kiss last night, Rogue. Never knew ya felt dat way bout ole' Remy.  
  
She glared, and he smiled to himself, knowing that he was once more in control of the situation, and that they were done talking about dangerous topics like his past. It's the best way for my powers ta work, swamp rat, she snapped, lying. It really didn't matter where she touched someone, but he didn't need to know that.   
  
He smirked. Sure, chere. It's all right--Remy knows it was jus' an excuse to kiss him, you don' have t' say it out loud.  
  
In ya dreams, cajun.  
  
he said with a wink.  
  
Whatever. The point bein' that never in _this_ world would Ah want to kiss ya.  
  
He raised his eyebrows. But you were perfectly willin' to last night. T'rew yourself at me, if I recall. He was rewarded with Rogue's cheeks blazing red. You haven't changed your mind since den, have ya _chere_?  
  
Rogue mustered her best glare, ignoring her burning cheeks. Dat kiss was jus' to get ya t'shut up! She winced at her accent.  
  
Come now Rogue, surely ya can't hate Remy no more, seein' as you're practically speakin' wit' m'own voice, he teased.  
  
Trust me cajun, havin' your memories and personality in my head is only makin' me hate ya _more_.   
  
She wished she hadn't said the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. The teasing look was gone from Remy's face, replaced with... hurt. Anger. Something. His red eyes blazed and he clenched his teeth, standing up so abruptly Rogue almost fell off the couch. Before she even knew what was happening, he was walking quickly out of the room, his trench coat billowing out behind him like an angry thundercloud.  
  
Remy, wait! She was standing up, running after him. He turned and glared at her, and for a second Rogue realized just why people called him Le Diable Blanc in his memories--he could be, _was_, damn scary. Ah... Ah didn't mean that the way it came out.  
  
Oh? Any ot'er way I could interpret dat statement? His tone was harsh, and Rogue looked away, angry at herself and at him.  
  
Yes! Ah... it's not you, Ah just--  
  
Just what? Hate me even more now dat you know de t'ings I've done, de people I know? Forget it chere--I had t'ought dat maybe you didn't hate me as much as ya said ya did, dat's why I stuck around, but now dat I can see dat's _obviously_ not de case, I'll jus' be gettin' out of your way.  
  
She scowled, looking away from his eyes. She hated eating her own words. Ah don't hate ya, she muttered. You just... annoy the shit out of me!  
  
He shook his head in disgust. You know, you can say it if my memories, de t'ings I've done, de people I knew... if it was all too much f'r ya, if it made ya truly despise me. Don' worry, I won't take it personal--y' can't help it if my life don' fit in wit' your tidy little situation here.  
  
It's not that! Ah just--dammit, Remy, what do ya think happens to _me_ once Ah've absorbed someone?  
  
Don't know, don't care. He turned to go, but Rogue grabbed his arm. Every single person Ah've ever absorbed stays right here, She said, tapping her head. The memories and personality, they _never_ leave--Ah can push em back, not talk to em, get better control an' all that, but they're always gonna be there. Goadin' me, haunting me.  
  
He seemed unimpressed. His red eyes flashed, and Rogue could tell he was about to make another angry retort. Your memories, your personality, they're just one more thing for me to deal with. One more person encroaching on my sanity. He tried to turn away again but she grabbed his face, wrenching him towards her, and found herself staring into eyes the color of blood. Blood... there had been so much of that in his life... Your memories are haunting my _nightmares,_ Gambit. When Ah woke up this morning, Ah thought Ah was in New Orleans, and then Ah blew up mah alarm clock jus' by touching it. She let go of him and took a step back, turning angrily away. That's why Ah said what Ah said, that' why just lookin' at ya makin' my head hurt. You're just another player in my head, fightin' for control, fightin' to make me disappear. That's the god damn problem, Remy. She looked up, meeting his eyes, her voice now barely more than a whisper. It's not you.  
  
Silence stretched between them like a circus tightrope, neither one wanting to take the first step. Somewhere in the back of her mind Rogue noticed that this was the first time he'd ever looked at her so earnestly. No, it wasn't so much that he was serious, it was.... a stray thought of his popped into her head: _something made her far too sexy for her own good whenever she got angry...she intoxicated him, pulling the reluctant but enthralled Cajun in before he even knew what was going on..._ Standing there, drowning in a devil's eyes, she knew the feeling was mutual. Somehow, despite her power, he had managed to suck _her_ in...  
  
Remy Lebeau swallowed, completely unable to break eye contact with the petulant teenager in front of him. _Dat's all she is... some pouty little girl t'rowin' a temper tantrum, _he tried desperately to convince his mind, knowing that he didn't believe a word. Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth, breathing in, about to speak.   
  
Rogue! There you are! The tightrope snapped as Bobby Drake entered the room, rushing over to his girlfriend. He smiled to her, oblivious to the way she stared at him as if he were a stranger. I've been looking for you all over the place.  
  
He moved in to kiss her, already icing up, but Rogue stopped him with a chaste hug. That's... real good you're home, Bobby, she said, her tone distracted and dazed. Before she quite knew what was happening, he was leading her off, chatting about his adventures in Boston and aking what had happened while he was gone, and Rogue didn't hear a word. She glanced back to the spot on the carpet where the world had disappeared into red and black. He was silhouetted against the window, his head bowed and his trench coat flaring out behind him as he fled from the scene of the crime.   
  
Bobby leaned in to kiss her, his lips crackling and frosty. Rogue didn't feel anything but the lingering burn of firelight eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. If it isn't her it isn't here

A/N: ack! Don't know why I had such a hard time with this chapter. I still feel kind of unsatisfied with it, but I'll let you guys be the judge of whether or not it sucks. Also, it was going to be longer and include all of Romy's road trip and the return of Logan, but I felt you guys had waited long enough and I should at least give you something. Think of it this way, now you have that much more to look forward to next chapter?  
  
Also, does anyone know of a site where I can find translations to cajun french? Nit-picky that I am, I just don't feel right having Remy speak in perfect French when he has a local dialect that's so strong.  
  
As always, THANK YOU for the reviews! (Especially you, edanielrya!) I have been so pleasantly surprised and touched by the response this story has gotten. You guys are what keeps me writing this, and I just want to thank you and hope that you like the next installment!  
  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
_  
Standing like john wayne   
She is full framed   
She is center stage   
And my imagination   
Is rattling in its cage   
I didn't really notice   
When everything else disappeared   
But as far as I'm concerned   
If it isn't her   
It isn't here _  
  
-Ani Difranco  
  
  
Uh, Rogue. Rogue? The shy southern mutant blinked when she saw Bobby's hand waving in front of her. She shook off whatever thoughts had caused her to daze off like that and smiled at Bobby.   
  
His grin faltered a little bit. Um, are you okay? You look about as alert as a bear in hibernation.  
  
She sighed, sick of keeping up a cheerful facade. I'm fine, was all she said before turning back to the movie they were watching in Bobby's room.   
  
He took her arm, gently turning her back to face him. he said. You're obviously upset, Rogue--tell me what's going on.  
  
The command wasn't demanding or condescending in any way, but Rogue found herself bristling at his tone anyway. She stared at Bobby as if seeing him for the first time, and in her mind the cajun sniffed derisively, muttering, _don' see why dis homme's so special. Downright annoyin', if ya ask Remy.' _What if Ah don't wanna? she asked her boyfriend, giving him a grumpy Wolverine-glare. Look Bobby, Ah've had a long, bad day and it's not even noon. Ah'm tired and hungry and sleep-deprived and Ah just wanna--just wanna be left alone!  
  
He glared at her, folding his arms over his chest. Marie, I just wanna talk to you! Jesus! Man, excuse me for thinking that a guy returning home after two freakin' weeks could get a little comfort and sympathy from his girlfriend.  
  
Bien, peut-être si vous n'étiez pas un gosse si corrompu... she muttered, and Bobby's eyes widened. Since when did Rogue know French?  
  
His mind flashed back to how he'd found her this morning, talking to that new guy. Bobby vaguely remembered hearing the guy say before he'd entered. He narrowed his eyes, his voice laced with suspicion. Does this have something to do with that guy downstairs?  
  
Just the fact that he's the biggest bastard on the planet and Ah can't stand him. Amazing how easy it is to lie to yourself.   
  
Anger flashed in Bobby's eyes, and he started towards the door. He did something to you, I know it. That jerk, I'm gonna-  
  
Ah can take care of myself, Bobby! Ah don't need ya to fight my battles for me.  
  
I wasn't! But I'm your boyfriend, I'm entitled to-  
  
To what? Ah don't recall readin' a rulebook on the subject.  
  
Well--what I mean is--I'm just worried about you, that's all! He took a few shuffling steps closer to her, locking her brown eyes with his own blue orbs. Please, let's not fight on our first day back.  
  
Rogue is silent, and her face is inscrutable, hiding a turbulent ocean of thoughts behind her brown eyes. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and immeasurably sad. Ah'm not the same girl Ah was when we started dating, Bobby.  
  
Bobby gulped. What... what do you mean?  
  
Rogue hesitated. What _did_ she mean? Ah mean... Ah mean that Ah'm not willin' to let ya do everything for me anymore, Bobby. You're not my keeper, you're not the be-all and end-all of my existence anymore. Ah can't-  
  
What do you mean? He interrupted her. I was always the one who always put the most into this relationship, I was the one who figured out a way for us to touch, I was the one who tried to save you from wallowing in self-pity, I was the one who tried to save you from your crush on Logan-  
  
_Save_ me? Her eyes narrowed dangerously. What the hell do you mean by that?  
  
I mean he's only going to hurt you Rogue! Even if, by some miracle, he was able and wanted to sleep with you-  
  
Shut up, Ice Boy! You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!  
  
-he'd only break your heart in the end! Oh sure, he'd come back when he wanted a booty call or something, but he'd never really love you, Marie! It's just not in his nature.  
  
Rogue clenched her jaw, fighting back the urge to hit him. And you're my knight in shining armor, is that it? Swooping in to rescue me from the big bad Wolverine.  
  
He looked away, angrily staring at the spot on the sofa where they'd been sitting peacefully just minutes before. That's what I wanted to be. But that was never good enough for you, was it?  
  
Did you ever think maybe the problem wasn't that a knight in shining armor wasn't good enough, it was just the exact opposite of what Ah needed?  
  
Oh, really? I thought all you needed was for me to touch you. That's how you acted, anyway.  
  
You're the first person Ah've _ever_ been able to kiss, Bobby! Dammit, of _course_ physical contact was the most important thing to me!  
  
He took a step back, realization dawning on his face. I was never more than someone you could touch, was I?  
  
And Ah was never more than the poor girl you could pity!  
  
They stared at each other from across the room, the accusations and poisonous words hanging in the air like ghosts. The annoying thing about words is that they can't be unsaid, no matter how much you wish they could. Both knew, at that moment, that whatever relationship they'd had was over. Only the final severance of romantic bonds had yet to be verbalized.  
  
Bobby stared hard at the ground, pretending he felt nothing when he said what came next. I think it would be best if... if we didn't see each other any more, Rogue.  
  
Despite herself, Rogue felt her eyes moisten with tears. Ah couldn't agree more, she said, her voice thick with unshed tears and frustration. She rushed past him, escaping out the door to leave Bobby Drake .   
  
Rogue didn't stop running until she was at the opposite end of the hall and downstairs. She found a wall in the kitchen and collapsed against it, covering her face with her hands. _I will _not_ cry over him_, she told her brain. _Absolutely certifiably will not. _  
  
But her brain didn't seem to be listening. She felt two big drops of saltwater squeeze out of the corners of her eyes and slide down her cheeks, and a treacherous sniffle escaped as well. Dammit! She hadn't even liked him much, not anymore, but... he was _Bobby_, all the same. He was her first boyfriend. He was the only boy whom she'd ever touched without sending him into the twilight zone, and he'd always been there for her, even before they were dating.  
  
Guess that was going to change.  
  
You always hide shakin' in de corners like dis, Rogue, or is dis a special occasion? Rogue quickly looked up, cursing mentally as she spotted her favorite vice, standing in front of the open fridge.   
  
Sniffing, she quickly wiped her eyes, turning away so he couldn't see how red and puffy her face was from crying. No. Ah was just... outta breath. The excuse sounded lame even to her ears.  
  
Remy gave a derisive snort and was at Rogue's side with two strides of his long legs. _Remy, you're being an idiot,_ his inner voice told him. _You shouldn't get close to this girl, you'll just get hurt._ He replied with some choice French swear words. Taking her chin in his gloved hand, he gently turned her face to his. Dis ain't not'ing, chere. Strong fille like you, Remy magines it takes a lot to make you cry. What's wrong, Rogue?  
  
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. If she did, she'd just start crying all over again. Nothin's wrong, she snapped. The boy Ah've been dating for a year just dumped me, that's all!  
  
he said, and the wise tone of his voice is so contrary to what Rogue has always heard from him that she almost laughs. De troubles of de heart, dey always de worst ones, neh?  
  
Troubles of the heart my ass... Remy could hear Rogue muttering incoherently under her breath as she shoved past him, heading for the fridge. She disappeared behind the white doors and reappeared a second later, arms stocked with enough chocolate* to feed a third world country. Ripping the wrappers off several candy bars at once, she proceeded to viciously attack poor Snickers and Hershey.  
  
Remy sighed. He had always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. Before he even knew he was going to, he was speaking to her, offering his arm. You wanna get outta here?  
  
Rogue stopped eating mid-bite, swallowing before laughing bitterly. Ah just broke up with my boyfriend five minutes ago and you're askin' me out on a _date?_  
  
Remy shrugged. A small voice whispered frantically in the back of his head, _No, you fool, you can't get involved again, you should run away from her now, go on, run-_It's not a date, chere. You're upset. I ain't exactly cheerful m'self. We both need about ten years worth of fresh air, and we need t'get outta dis mansion. _That's not running, you idiot!_  
  
She snorted. How sweet of you.  
  
Why you gotta be so difficult all de time? Remy not askin' you to dinner and de ballet. It's a motorcycle ride, chere. We don't even have to stop, jus' ride until we feel like turnin' back round. The voice in the back of his head piped up again. _Remy, you'll hurt yourself, you'll hurt her, you'll get both of you killed, you can't do this, you can't get close to her! _Remy politely told his head voice just where it could shove its sensible advice.  
  
Rogue gave him a dubious look, absently chewing her lip as she looked him over. He seemed sincere, just trying to help her get over whatever was troubling her--but Rogue knew from his own thoughts in her head that Remy Lebeau never did anything for just one reason. Never did anything that wouldn't benefit himself. He was _Le Diable Blanc_, a devil who could make anyone swear he was God's Angel incarnate. She couldn't find anyone more different from the selfless, caring, full-of-pity Bobby Drake if she searched the globe ten times over.  
  
Then again, maybe Bobby's antithesis was just what she needed.  
  
All right, fine, Rogue said, putting down her chocolate and heading for the garage. Let's go.  
  
Remy blinked, nonplussed--he hadn't really expected her to accept his offer. His body was quicker on the uptake than his brain, thankfully, and soon he was beside her, both of them making their way to the monumental caverns that made up the X-mansion garage.  
  
Remy knelt next to his most prized possession, his deft hands caressing the sleek contours of the motorcycle like he was wooing a lover, his eyes gleaming as he admired the work of art. Thank god he had managed to convince Thierry that sending it up here was most definitely in the old Frenchman's best interest. Dis is it, chere... de ultimate bliss, right here in dis garage. Dis bike, dis be freedom, a break, a chance to get away from _everyt'in'_. He turned to her with a genuine smile on his face and sparks of _joie de vivre_ dancing in his eyes. If you're nice to Remy, chere, mebbe he let you share de seat, non?  
  
Rogue eyed the object of Remy's affections skeptically, although secretly she admired the bike almost as much as he did. How could she not, with Logan's expertise and critical eye slobbering over the machine in her mind?  
  
Still. That really yours, swamp rat?  
  
Of course it is! he answered indignantly. You t'ink Remy would take such good care of a stolen bike?  
  
Rogue crossed her arms and arched one eyebrow, her expression still skeptical.   
  
I promise you, chere, dis bike was bartered, bought and paid for by yours truly. She stared at him, and Remy squirmed uncomfortably. Okay, so maybe de means of transaction were slightly _extralegal-_  
  
Who'd ya steal it from, Remy?  
  
I didn't steal it, I promise! Monsieur Treban needed a t'ief, I needed transportation and a helpin' hand, we made a deal. Dere was no stealin' involved--at least, where de bike's concerned, he amended quickly. Rogue was still looking suspicious, so he went even further. You want t' see de papers? he bluffed. Or, wait, I forgot: you have de memories stored in dat pretty head of yours now, oui? He grinned deviously. You could always delve deeper into those mem'ries of mine, chere, he said, his voice husky and suggestive. Never know what ya might find.  
  
He was rewarded when twin spots of red burned in her cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed. Ah think Ah'll stay as far away from your memories as Ah possibly can, Remy, she muttered.  
  
He treated her to another dazzling grin, trying to ignore the way her words speared his heart like a million jagged pieces of glass. Of course she wanted to stay as far away from his memories--hell, he'd run away from them, too, if he only could... Now or never, chere. You wanna jump on dis bike or are y' jus' gon' let it sit here n rust?  
  
Rogue hesitated, suddenly wondering at the wisdom of jumping on a motorcycle with a declared and wanted thief. She stared at him, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable, reminding Remy with a pang of guilt that she was only seventeen, no matter how old she seemed to be. She had the memories and personalities of two men and two hells in her mind, she'd had an entire city in her palm, at her mercy, she'd hitchhiked through twelve states and three provinces and just recently submerged herself in the memories of an entire Guild built upon thievery and lies, murder and intrigue. She was no _petite fille._  
  
But at that moment, in that instant of time stretching between them, Rogue looked like any other teenage girl, her eyes wide and searching, her full bottom lip quivering, the pretty strands of two-toned hair coming to life when a breeze whispered through the garage, whipping about a face that still held its childish beauty. She looked like Jesus' little sister, an innocent, pure little girl that loved with all her heart and only expected the same in return. Remy thought she had never been more beautiful, and knew, at the same time, that that thought was going to earn him a few more eternities burning in hell--after he paid the debts he already owed to God, of course. How could he even think about her, when she was so pure, so good, so... beautiful? How could he even fathom the possibility of holding her, of kissing her, of being with her when he... when he was damned so completely.  
  
The moment passed, and Rogue was once again herself, not pure, not angelic, not innocent, but leaning back against the wall of the garage, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at the Cajun, who was busy trying not to think about many, many subjects.   
  
Ya sure Ah can trust ya, Cajun? Her voice was low and challenging, and her brown eyes, locked on his, were proud and defiant.   
  
He stared back, and when he answered there wasn't a trace of guile in his voice. Not a bit, chere. Never been sure'f anyt'in. But I do know it's a belle day and you're a belle femme dat's been cryin' f'r far too long. He offered her his hand. So how bout we blow dis joint?  
  
She looked at his hand and sniffed derisively. It was just a show of defiance, though, one last little gesture that said, Don't think you've got me so easily.' Bypassing his arm, Rogue sat down on the bike's leather seat, scooting backwards to give him room to drive in front of her.   
  
Remy leered at her and took his seat, feeling a familiar thrill as the leather seat molded to his form and his heels found the pedal, and another shiver as Rogue scooted even further forward, her pelvis pressing against his back and her legs fitting beside his as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, finally coming together.   
  
He felt her body relax behind him, and a little sigh escaped her lips as she wrapped her arms around his chest, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Remy's eyes widened as he felt her so close, and it was all he could do not to turn around and bury his mouth in hers. Why was she doing this? Normally she was so aloof from everyone, stiff and awkward even when touching someone through layers of clothing, yet here she was, practically cuddling him. He knew she'd have to hold him to keep from falling off once they got started--that was part of the whole appeal of the motorcycle, really--but this.... this was...  
  
Remy shook his head, clearing it of his increasingly incoherent thoughts. She wanted a trip, didn't she? Well, he'd better give him one. He felt the familiar devilish grin settle on his lips as his hands gunned the engine. Hope you're ready f'r dis, chere, he whispered in her ear as they tore out of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, feeling each other's hearts beating too fast, feeling twin sets of lungs gasp with excitement, feeling blood-red eyes and defiant brown ones close with the onset of the ecstasy of the open road. 


	7. Speak to me in riddles

A/N: Gack! Soooo sorry this is so incredibly late. I had writer's block, and then stupid *(&^%$ing fanfiction.net decided to go all freaky on me and wouldn't let my chapter upload. Ppshaw!  
  
Many, many thanks to you reviewers, I love you all! One of these days I'll do individual shoutouts. But yeah, this chapter wouldn't be here without all o y'all. (Hee, look, I can be southern too mom.... ahem) Also, note that the rating is upped to R now, due entirely to some decidedly unladylike language on Rogue's part.  
  
Enjoy!  
****  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
_Through this world I've stumbled  
so many times betrayed  
trying to find an honest word to find  
the truth enslaved  
Oh you speak to me in riddles  
and you speak to me in rhymes  
my body aches to breathe your breath  
your words keep me alive_  
  
-Sarah McLachlin  
  
Storm clouds began to appear in the sky above the mansion, and Ororo cursed under her breath when she saw them. She'd been letting her emotions affect the weather, _again_--the Professor had never had much success in stopping her unconscious wielding of the skies when she was upset.   
  
Dismissing the thunderheads with a thought, she gazed out the window at the exhaust that clung to the spot where Rogue and Remy had just been, before they raced off on Remy's bike. Ororo bit her lip, reminding herself not to judge, but she couldn't help it: the girl was seventeen, had only been in one relationship before, and Remy was already moving in. On little Marie! Despite her growth in the last year, Ororo couldn't help but think of Rogue as that shy, terrified little girl that they'd rescued from a burning trailor.   
  
But she wasn't that little girl anymore. Her behavior with Remy made that obvious: Ororo had overheard snippets of their conversation that morning, and then Remy had confided their kiss to her later. Why was Marie doing this? Couldn't she tell that anything with Remy would lead to nothing but heartbreak?  
  
Ororo shook her head, furious at herself. _He is one of your best friends, and has proven himself over and over to be a good man,_ she scolded her mind. _You have no right to be judging him now!_  
  
It wasn't that she didn't trust Remy. But he, well... his relationships with women all seemed to inevitably lead to the girl either dying or hating him--that is, when he bothered with anything more than a one-night stand. It wasn't entirely his fault, but all the same, any relationship with Remy was doomed to disaster.  
  
_And you'd know from experience, wouldn't you, Ororo?_ she thought bitterly, and immediately felt guilty. It wasn't Remy's fault, after all--she'd been as drunk as he, it had only been one night, and how could he possibly know how she'd longed for him afterwards? No, Ororo herself had decided it would definitely be best not to pursue a relationship with Remy Lebeau, and she would stand by that decision no matter what happened.  
  
She groaned in frustration, throwing herself back on the couch. He was so young, so much younger than her, and before that had been enough to persuade her to deny her feelings, to stay romantically away from him. She had herself so convinced that all she felt was an exceptionally strong bond of friendship with him--she was so sure that it had all been just a one-time crush until he came to live at the mansion. Now, when she saw him every day as opposed to every few months, when he spent all his time with her as opposed to only seeking her out when he needed her, everything was different. It was all she could do not to shake uncontrollably whenever he was around. Depending on Remy's moods and actions, Ororo was either ecstatic or depressed or frustrated or angry, and her teammates were beginning to notice. Jean had insisted that she take a day off from teaching and come to the med lab just yesterday, when she had accidentally summoned up a wind that had tossed John all around her classroom in the middle of English. It wasn't John's fault, not really--he had just snapped her last nerve at a time when her nerves were very, very fragile.  
  
Damn him. Damn his cajun accent, and his charm, and his all-too-friendly feelings toward her...  
  
Ororo scowled up at the ceiling. It's just physical, she announced. It's the product of many years of good friendship and _one single night_ of sex, and that's _all._  
  
Silence blanketed the room, leaving the weather witch alone, her judgment and longing her only company.  
  
***  
  
He smelled like cigarettes and leather and jalapeño peppers. The scent was off-putting and dirty, but incredibly arousing as well. Hounded on all sides by the relentless wind, surrounded by the roar of the bike's motor and hanging on to Remy for dear life, Rogue found herself submerged in his scent, drowning in it--drowning in him.  
  
She gritted her teeth against the persistent noise of the motor, wondering why the engine had to be so god damn loud. It was like a freaking construction drill vibrating in her eardrums. Remy didn't seem to mind, though: he was singing jovially in french, doing his best college-try to drown out the motor. Rogue couldn't decide which was worse, his singing or the scream of the engine.  
  
Remy felt Rogue shiver behind him, and mentally scolded himself for not offering her his jacket before they left--some gentleman he was. What he _should_ do was pull over now and offer his coat, he knew that, but damn it all, he was _afraid._ Scared that, should he stop even for a second she would come to her senses and say What the hell am I doing? I should be back at the X-mansion, hanging out with my friends and having fun, instead of riding off on some wild goose chase with this lunatic.'  
  
He knew where he wanted to take her the instant she'd sat her pretty little bottom on the bike's leather seat, but he'd forgotten how long it took to get there. He didn't have a watch, but judging by it being mid-afternoon when they left and after sundown now, hours had passed.   
  
He heard her gasp as they rounded a corner and the city lights came into view. _Bet the river rat never saw much cosmopolitan action back where she from, _he thought to himself, grinning. The traffic wasn't even that bad, and soon he was coasting into a grungy parking lot of a grungy building on the outskirts of the city.  
  
Rogue gave him a dubious look as she got off the bike, clearly not impressed with the surroundings. _This_ is where we drove five hours to get to?  
  
Hey, give dis Cajun some credit! Remy said defensively. You haven't seen what I want to show you yet. Smirking at her, he grasped the fire escape ladder at the side of the building and began to climb. Noticing that she wasn't following, he looked down over his shoulder at her, exasperated. What are ya waitin' for? Come on!  
  
Why are we goin' up on the roof? Rogue said skeptically, tentatively stepping up on the ladder. Truthfully, she was more intrigued than suspicious or scared--the sun was setting, she was with a gorgeous guy in New York City, what more could she... _Ah cannot believe Ah just thought that!_ Rogue admonished herself as she continued to climb, glad that Remy couldn't see her blush. _That Ah'm getting all mushy and romantic about Remy-look-how-much-of-an-asshole-I-can-be-Lebeau just shows how desperate Ah really am,_ she thought wryly. _Good grief, girl, get a grip on yourself!_  
  
They reached the roof, and Rogue gasped. It was... she'd never seen anything like it. It was a perfect view of the city, the skyscrapers reaching high toward heaven, the space where the two towers were achingly empty, the sun setting a blaze behind it all... she gaped, for once completely at a loss for words.  
  
Remy watched her, smirking slightly to himself. He never failed to impress the ladies, and Rogue was no different, not really. He could handle her just fine. _Really._  
  
This is... this is really... how did you find this?! Rogue's voice sounded part baffled, part accusatory as she turned to face him, the look on her face suggesting she thought he had stolen the very roof top.  
  
Remy shrugged, ignoring her suspicion. Been comin' down to the city every once in a while--it gets pretty boring up dere in de mansion. He grinned evilly. You know, it's pretty pathetic dat a man's gotta come all the way down to de city jus' to get a decent drink and a blow job. You should talk to de professor bout dat, I t'ink it's gonna be a real problem.  
  
Rogue glared at him, and he could practically hear the thoughts going through her head: _Dammit, I want to drain that bastard dry... but he's my ride home... but I _really_ want to kill him..._ You bastard, she spat at him, and sat down, her body jerking angrily to the roof.  
  
Remy sneered. You really need to learn how to take a joke, ya know dat? He sat down a couple feet beside her, wondering why he just had to say what he knew would piss her off the most. Was he really that afraid of her finding out he was a nice guy? _No worries about that, Lebeau, you certainly aren't a nice guy,'_ he reminded himself.  
  
Rogue ignored him, looking down at the the roof as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, tracing a pattern in the grime and dirt. Why do you always do that? she said suddenly, and her voice was quiet. Was that... no, it couldn't be--did her voice actually sound _hurt?_   
  
Do what? he said, keeping his voice casual only through years of practice and discipline.  
  
Ya know... say things you know will upset me. Rile me up on purpose. Ah mean, do ya really want me to hate you, or are you really that scummy of a person?  
  
Remy was at a loss for words. How the hell did she _do_ that? She was reading his mind like a newspaper, when mighty telepaths couldn't even crack the surface.  
  
He began tracing his own pattern in the dirt with his boot. Don't really know, chere. His voice was sickeningly casual. Jus' part of my charming personality, non?  
  
Rogue scowled up at the sky, her finger still vaguely tracing patterns in the dirt. Bruised purples and blues were streaking across the sky, devouring the pinks and oranges of the sunset; it would be night soon. Girlfriends and wives all over the city would soon be accepting jackets from their various beaus, and men would shiver and say, Oh, don't worry, I'm not cold! while their teeth chattered and their fingers began to sting with cold. Hoping this one gentlemanly act would at least guarantee them a good night kiss, if not a good night everything else.  
  
Remy hugged his grimy old trench coat closer around him, staring resentfully at Rogue out of the corner of his eye. She was still waiting for a better answer than the one he gave her. And Remy really wished he _could_ give her an answer.  
  
Yeah. Charming personality. Right. Rogue glanced down at the pattern she'd doodled in the sand, and felt a chill run through her. She'd written some archaic message--in _hebrew._ She hastily rubbed it out before mind-Eric could tell her what it meant. Probably some horrible anti-human message of doom.  
  
Why are you asking me, anyway? he said. If you really wanted to know, you could just look at de parts of me you stole.  
  
_It's not that fucking simple! _The words exploded out of her, showering little pieces of frustration and resentment shrapnel out onto the city below. You-you act like Ah can just sift through some filing cabinet in my head, read up on your _glorious_ past and personality in some glossy file. She laughed, a bitter, barking sound. You think my _stupid_ power comes with my own, personal, slick little _organizer?!_  
  
She's on the verge of hysterics, Remy can tell. _Oh shit,_ he thinks as he moves sideways to comfort her. _I finally pushed her over the edge this time._  
  
She jerks away from him, looking like he was holding up a gigantic poisonous snake and asking her to kiss it. _Don't touch me!_ Don't you get it? Didn't that one lesson penetrate your thick skull when Ah _nearly killed you_ last night?  
  
Remy grins, trying desperately to get her back in good humor. Remy's a slow learner, he says. He still hasn't figured it out.  
  
Fine. You just sit there, making stupid _fucking_ jokes and pretending that Ah'm just... just playing hard-to-get! She is standing up now, her movements sharp and awkward and furious. You... you just _sit_ there and ask me to look up your memories in my magic mental filing cabinet! She walked over to the edge of the roof, hugging herself from the cold. I... I just doodled a message in _hebrew_ over there. I don't fucking know hebrew. This morning I cursed my boyfriend out in _French,_ another language I failed to learn. A week ago I was sneaking out to buy Canadian beer and cigars.   
  
Remy stood up cautiously, slowly moving to stand beside her. This time she didn't move away. She keeps talking. And you know what? It wouldn't be so bad, wouldn't be that bad at all if the damn voices didn't... didn't _leak._ He doesn't know what she's talking about, she's not even sure she knows. They... they leak into every aspect of my life, so at every moment I'm not sure whether I'm you, Magneto, Logan or Bobby... Dear god, she'd absorbed _Magneto?_ Remy felt a shiver run along his spine, as most people did upon hearing that bastard's name. He looked at her with renewed respect: she must be one tough _femme_ to stomach that man's psyche.   
  
She was still talking, her voice sounding far away, flat, almost dead. And you know, your memories really aren't that bad, comparatively. Not compared to a man who's lived through the fucking _holocaust._ And then there's Logan...! Ah have to deal with shit in my waking life that he only remembers in dreams. Ah don't tell him, but Ah probably know more about his fucked up past than he does.... and it's confusing, scary as hell...  
  
_Logan?_ There was that name again, and Remy felt uneasiness stir deep in his gut. _Relax,_ he told himself. _It's not the man you're thinking of._  
  
She's shut up now, staring out into the rhinestone glam city like it holds the answer to all her problems. Remy's only twenty-one; he's never had to deal with this. Bella kept all her problems to herself, cept for the ones that dealt with the Guilds. Besides, he and Bella did not spend most of their time together _talking._  
  
She didn't notice how awkward he felt, that he was trying to figure out what to say to make all her hurts go away; Rogue is hardly even aware of him anymore. She's staring out into all the glitz, her eyes fixed on the faraway point of beautiful Lady Liberty.  
  
Of course it isn't Remy's fault; he had no way of knowing, couldn't possibly realize that this whole damn city is one of the biggest sore spots in her life. He doesn't know that she can't admire the view without remembering the screams and the white and the destruction and her self-hatred because she loved it. She was Magneto, that night, not Rogue, and she loved it, and she hated herself.  
  
Remy finally decides to say nothing at all. Words are not what she needs right now. Instead he brushes the small of her back with her fingers, not lecherously, just the briefest of touches to let her know that he's here, he's with her, and he's not judging her.   
  
Rogue shakes herself out of it, and sits down again, pretending that nothing has happened. And so Ah wish you'd just stop this flirting thing of yours, she says casually. Because Ah'm _not_ just playin' hard to get. Nothin' could ever come of it, and really, you just annoy me when ya pretend that anythin'... that anything _could._  
  
Remy sits down beside her. I flirt wit' _everyone,_ he says, and his voice sounds heavy, tired. What de hell makes you t'ink _you're _so special?  
  
Rogue looks at him with a look of pure surprise. Nothin' Ah guess. Cept that ya seem downright determined to make my life miserable.  
  
Oh, and dat's considered flirtin' where you're from, river rat? Maybe I just don' like you.  
  
A smile twitches at the corners of Rogue's mouth, and she shrugs, turning away from him. Ah could deal with that.  
  
I must not be tryin' hard enough. You're supposed to be runnin' awy from Remy in sheer revulsion at this point.  
  
Rogue giggles, a strange sound coming from such a somber girl. Well, Ah could if ya _really_ wanted me to.  
  
Mmm, nah--be too much effort to chase ya down, he says flippantly.   
  
She raises one eybrow. Oh, really.  
  
He stares her in the eye, daring her to call his bluff, to call him on his strange, illogical, stupid stupid half-crush half-hatred. She must know; it was all he could think of when she kissed him.   
  
She doesn't take the bait. Instead she turns back towards the city, shrugging, pretending not to notice the heat in his tone or his emotions tugging at the back of her mind. What's New Orleans like? she asks, obviously changing the subject.  
  
Oh, it's allright, I guess; best place in de world for some, haven of sin and devil-worship for other's...   
  
They talk, neither of them noticing the time. Somehow Rogue's head has gravitated to Remy's shoulder, making the poor Cajun sweat and just barely falter in his smooth words; somehow Rogue's eyelids have gravitated towards each other, and yawns escape from her mouth; somehow the moon has gravitated almost to the center of the indigo sky.   
  
Rogue notices this, and blearily checks her watch. Oh shit! she yelps. Remy, it's eleven-thirty, my curfew is midnight!  
  
Which means we've got another half-hour, _chere._  
  
She socks him. You dolt! It took us _hours_ to get down here!   
  
So obviously we're gonna be late anyway, so _obviously_ waiting another half-hour or hour or so won't really matter now, will it?  
  
She glares at him, reaching back her hand to sock him again, and Remy is half-frightened she'll do it without the glove this time. All right all right! Let's get goin', den.  
  
***  
  
Carol is restless. She's almost _always_ restless these days; usually she cures it by going out flying, but today she is waiting for an important phone call and can't leave the house.  
  
The phone finally rings, and she pounces on it. Carol here.  
  
It's Fury. Carol, something's come up, I don't want you to do the mission.  
  
Well of _course_ something's come up, I assume that's why you've had me waiting so long! And what the _hell_ do you mean, you don't want me to do it? I am _not _backing off this just because you're a wee bit _nervous_, Nick.  
  
Dammit Carol, you _know_ that's not what's going on!  
  
Well then what _is_ going on? Please, do enlighten me, seeing as I've been cooped up in this god damn apartment for two weeks with nothing but your word that you'll give me a call soon and the mission's on hold.  
  
Carol... the leadership of the Hellfire Club, it's switched. We don't know who's in charge anymore, but we do know they were powerful enough to completely obliterate the last rulers. We don't know anything about these new folks, and I don't want you going in there with no information.  
  
Nick, please. Not to sound conceited, but I'm a one-woman powerhouse; I'm sure I can take _whatever_ they throw at me.  
  
Carol, don't be-  
  
I'm sick of this, Nick! They killed my family, you _know_ they did, and yet I've done _nothing._ I've sat on my ass like a good little girl, and I'm sick of it. I'm goig in there, Nick; with or _without_ CIA approval.  
  
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone line. Then, Fine. You... you can go in. But will you wait just two more days? Give me time to find you good backup.  
  
Fine. Whatever. ...Thank you, Nick.   
  
Don't thank me, Carol; you just bullied me into something that I really, _really_ don't want to do. Be in New York in two days. _Click.  
_


	8. Long Lost

A/N: Um. There's no excuse for this being this late, except that I got severely distracted by other fic and other fandoms, not to mention the horrors of Real Life. I've also toned down the accents, and I think I'll keep the accents out for the rest of the fic.  
  
Chapter 8  
_  
Are you lost?   
Do you find life turning out   
Not quite the way you planned?   
Come around stay awhile   
That's OK That's Alright   
Couldn't get to sleep so talk about it.   
Let's talk about it right now.   
  
Here it comes on my head again   
I guess I'm born to be the long lost friend.   
Long Lost Friend._   
  
_-_Better than Ezra  
  
Logan couldn't bring himself to get off the bike. It was sometime after midnight; judging from the depth of the darkness, it was probably around two or three in the morning.  
  
He couldn't bring himself to go inside.  
  
It was silly. He knew it was silly. Everyone at the mansion had made it clear that he was welcome back anytime; there were no hard feelings from the people here, at least not on the surface. He was probably imagining the vague smells of fear and resentment that lingered whenever people spoke to him. Probably imagining the averted glances and questioning stares he always glimpsed just out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Logan sighed to himself, and lit a cigar. _When in doubt, smoke, drink, or fornicate--isn't that your motto, Wolverine?_ He scowled. And now he was talking to himself. Even better.  
  
He stared up at the intimidating gates to the school, tastefully decorated with clinging vines of ivy. He felt shame creep up behind him, the inevitable feeling that he wasn't good enough for these people, with their hopeful ideas, their heroic actions, their beauty, and worst of all their forgiveness.  
  
He put out the end of his cigar, hissing as the flesh of his hand charred. Sick as it was, he still got a little thrill out of watching his body heal, watching his skin perform miracles. Cracking his neck, he started up the bike and rode around to the back. _I'm coming back for Rogue,_ he reminded himself. _The rest of em can shove it up their asses if they have a problem with me._ Striding up to the back door--he never used the front--he failed to notice the other motorcycle parked beside his.  
  
Rogue felt sick. She didn't even want to _think_ about what Xavier would do to her, being this late for curfew! Pictures danced in her mind of endless dish duty, of even earlier curfews and restriction to the mansion until eternity. Not being the sort to bend rules often (she valued the sanctuary of Xavier's school far too much to risk it), her ideas of the professor's punishment were much more creative and severe than his actual methods.  
  
She gulped nervously as the mansion came into view, squeezing Remy's chest just a little harder. He glanced down at her hands, wondering for a moment, and then forced himself to keep an eye on the road.   
  
He glanced up at the ivied gates as they skidded to a stop in front. I don't know the security that well on this place, chere, he said, his voice low, quiet. Which way's best to get in?  
  
Her voice was nervous, and Remy could tell she didn't have much experience with this sort of thing. Back. The back door's the best.  
  
They crept inside, being as silent as humanly possible. He stopped when they reached the foot of the staircase. You wait here, he whispered. I'll go up, check n see dat everyone's fast asleep. Rogue nodded nervously, her mind generously providing her with visions of all the X-men plus the top students waiting to berate her on the second floor.  
  
She watched him creep up the stairs, his body so graceful it seemed almost liquid. Hypnotizing. Everything about him was that way: smooth, graceful, fast. He scared her when he didn't keep that act up, when he allowed his awkwardness, his moodiness to show up in his actions and words; scared her, because she didn't know how she'd react to him when she wasn't scorning his play-acting, his moves.'  
  
Isn't it past yer bedtime, kid? Rogue's heart stopped, and then started again five hundred times faster. _It isn't him it can't be him I'm imagining things-_  
  
Logan's heart caught in his throat as he watched her body stiffen, watch her slowly turn to face him, her eyes suspicious and disbelieving. He clamped down on the new cigar between his teeth, leaned back and forced himself to remain cool. What, you didn't think I'd come back?  
  
He could barely hear her whisper, even with his advanced eardrums. Her face was solemn, wary; Logan immediately thought of the first time she'd stared at him, that scared and fascinated look in the bar as she figured out what he was. She hadn't rejected him then; she wouldn't reject him now. She _wouldn't.  
  
_Then her face changed, and she pulled him into a hug, fierce and desperate and so incredibly _glad_ that he's back. Logan returned her affection, pulling her close, burying his nose in her hair. He'd forgotten how good it felt, holding her, knowing there was someone that cared about him, needed him. Already he knew he'd made the right choice, coming back.   
  
Rogue pulled back for a second, meeting his eyes. He could see her breath catching in her throat, and there was a look in her eyes he'd never seen before.   
  
All right, chere, it looks like- Remy stopped at the sight of them, and Rogue jumped, hastily stepping away from Logan.   
  
Um, Hi Remy, this is Logan, she said nervously, trying to keep from blushing.   
  
snikt   
  
Rogue jumped again, fearfully turning to stare at Logan. He looked ready to jump down Remy's throat. he snarled.  
  
A charged card sizzled in Remy's hand. He said nothing, but grim hatred was etched into every line of his face.   
  
Um, hey guys, settle down, Rogue said, her alarm mounting. _Shit shit shit! _she thought frantically. _They look like they're about to rip each other apart, and no way will I be able to stop them if they start!_  
  
At the sound of Rogue's voice, both men switched from glaring at each other to glaring at her. What the hell is _he_ doing here? they snarled in unison.  
  
I live here! shouted Logan indignantly. You're in my _home!_  
  
Oh, _really_? That's funny, cause I don't recall ever seein' ya here once this past two weeks!  
  
Rogue gulped as she felt the testosterone level in the room rise significantly. _Come on, girl, think! You've got to say something to stop them from tearing each other apart, quick! _Look, both o' y'all are only _technically_ here as guests anyway, so ya got no right to go bustin' at each otha fer bein' here! she said desperately, wincing at her accent, which was always stronger when she was nervous.  
  
The two men stopped growling at each other to glare at her; then they both started yelling at once.  
  
Oh, so I'm not welcome here anymore? Is that what you're tryin' to tell me, _Marie_? fumed Logan.  
  
'Scuse me for thinking that _guests_ are supposed to be treated with some kinda _courtesy,_ snapped Remy, glowing eyes fixated on Rogue. But then again, you've been treatin' me like dirt for two weeks, so why should I expect any different?  
  
Rogue stared back, caught by surprise. I _never_-  
  
Would you all kindly stop shouting? You'll wake the younger students.  
  
The three of them jumped and whirled to face Ororo. She was standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands. Her normally serene manner was replaced by an expression that would be described as annoyed' on anyone else. On Ororo, it merely made her look slightly less serene.  
  
Logan was the first to recover. he said, half-growling, half-smirking. Isn't it a little late to be hunting around the kitchen? Remy wanted to vomit at the sound of his chummy tone of voice, the ease with which he regarded the only woman--only person, really--Remy had ever actually considered a True Friend.  
  
Ororo just raised one eyebrows, a skeptical, amused expression on her face, before turning to Rogue. May I ask why you're awake and shouting three hours after student curfew?  
  
Rogue turned crimson, trying desperately to think of something plausible she could say.   
  
'S my fault, Stormy, said Remy, grinning nonchalantly and leaning back as if he hadn't been ready to blow a whole in the wall minutes before. Y'see, I couldn't sleep, so I was pacin' the halls upstairs, and accidentally woke li'l miz' Rogue up. He grinned down at Rogue as if they shared some inside joke. At first she wanted to drain me dry, but I managed to calm her down enough so she'd accept a midnight snack and forgive me.  
  
Rogue looked thoroughly confused for a second, but she caught on quickly and glared up at Remy. You're insufferable, swamp rat, she snapped, though he could see the gratitude in her eyes. Logan scowled.  
  
Of course, Ororo didn't believe him for a second. Xavier had known Rogue wasn't in the mansion hours ago. But it was a cute try, and she couldn't help but crack a smile. Uh-huh. Regardless, it is high past time for you to be in your room, Rogue--you do have classes tomorrow.  
  
I know, Ms. Munroe, but please, Logan just got back and I _did_ want a midnight snack... ?  
  
Ororo hesitated, not wanting to reward Rogue for breaking the rules, but she looked so hopeful, and she knew that Logan could use the conversation, too... Very well. But make it short, and don't wake up anyone else.   
  
Remy opened his mouth to speak, but Ororo looked up and met his eyes. She shook her head no' slightly, a warning in her eyes. Remy scowled. He _really_ did not want to leave Rogue alone with the Wolverine, but it was probably best to stay on Ororo's good side, seeing as he was here on her good graces--not to mention he doubted that he could spend another minute in the same room with Wolverine and resist the urge to blow up the arrogant bastard. Shooting one last look of loathing at the Wolverine, he turned and stormed back to his room.  
  
They were sitting in the kitchen, across from each other on the table. Rogue traced the edge of her mug of hot chocolate with one gloved finger. Why'd you decide to come back? she asked abruptly, looking up to meet his eyes.  
  
Logan shifted his weight nervously. He hated it when she wanted to get up close and personal like this; he knew what to say, he just didn't want to say it. Well, uh. He gulped down his soda, feeling the bubbles tickle his throat. This is home, ain't it?  
  
She looked skeptical. You don't really feel that, do you?  
  
Feel what?  
  
Feel that... that this is home.  
  
He stared at her, at a loss for words. Of course I do! This is the only place where I've felt accepted for years-  
  
If this was your home, why did you run off? Twice? Rogue shook her head, growing more agitated by the second. I _meant_ it when I said that I didn't think you'd come back. You always act like this place is just _convenient_ for you, like it's just some motel for you to crash at before going out on your sex-and-booze-filled adventures-  
  
He was staring at her, mouth wide open, as if she'd changed into a different person right before his eyes. Rogue sighed, turning away. _Perfect,_ she thought to herself. _In one day I've managed to blow up at the only three men to take a real interest in my life._  
  
she grumbled. It's just... you always act like you don't really want to be here.  
  
I do. He felt so transparent, sitting there in front of her, as if she could read every guilty thought that passed through his head. He wondered if that was a new mutation she'd picked up.  
  
Rogue glanced up, meeting his eyes, before going back to tracing her mug. I know, she whispered, and her voice sounded gentler now. I know you do.  
  
They sat in silence, Logan chewing on his cigar (but never lighting it) while Rogue sipped from her hot chocolate. They were getting used to each other's presence again, soaking in the familiar aura of friendship and dependency.   
  
Finally Logan spoke. I missed you, kid.  
  
She looked up, smiling.   
  
  
  
... I kinda missed you too.  
  
That so?  
  
  
  
Logan grinned at her, and Rogue felt her face grow warm. She knew it was silly, to have this horrible crush on him for years and years, especially since she hadn't seen him for months, but how on earth could she help it when he smiled like that?  
  
She never had any control over what she did, when it came to him. From the first moment she saw him, she found herself doing unpredented, crazy things--sometimes she wonders if it was his presence, pulling at the core of her, that made her walk into that sleazy bar in the first place. She remembers that night like it was just last week: the peculiar feeling as her heart dropped to her toes when that awful trucker said, This is Laughlin City the not-completely-unreasonable panic that coursed through her when she saw the type of people heading into the bar; the tears that threatened to spill when she felt the negative-degree temperature and remembered what spring felt like back in Mississippi.  
  
She still didn't know what gave her the strength to actually walk inside; the girl who traced out a fanciful map to Alaska for Cody would never have had the courage. It sounded silly, but she's always thought that maybe she could feel him inside, and his very presence gave her strength before they even set eyes on one another.  
  
She wanted to tell him this, tell him what he did to her; she wanted to tell him _everything._ She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but she had to say something, so she just opened her mouth and let words spill out, blurted out like ugly ducklings. Logan, I need-  
  
Rogue, I know I can't control what time Logan turns in, but it's _three-thirty in the morning._ Ororo stood in the doorway, interrupting again. She may have been attempting to play the role of responsible adult, but Rogue could tell from a glance that the only reason the weather witch was in the kitchen was because she was fighting insomnia herself. You really must go to bed.  
  
Rogue wasn't tired at all, despite being awake for almost twenty-four hours straight. She hated Ororo for a second, furious at the older woman for destroying what suddenly seemed to be the most important moment in Rogue's life.   
  
But she could tell from the closed expression on Logan's face that Share Time was over; there would be no more confessions that night. She forced a tight smile and said goodbye to both of them, but paused, uncertain, in front of Logan. Seized by impulse, she stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his temple, over his coarse hair. She fled before he could react.  
  
She trudged slowly up the stairs, mulling over the day's events. She realized the mother of all migraines was festering in her skull, and wondered vaguely if it was worth it to go back down to the kitchen cupboards in search of some Aspirin; realized that the kitchen meant facing Logan, and decided against it. Realized that maybe she _was_ kind of tired. But just a bit. Really.  
  
Remy waited for her at the top of the stairs. He was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, eyes flashing, cards flipping between his fingers; obviously in a brooding mood. Took ya long enough, he said, his tone short and rough. A man'd think you were discussing all of recorded history in there.  
  
She glared at him, too tired to even feign politeness. What the hell's the matter, Remy? Is this because you two knew each other from before, or somethin'?  
  
She saw his fingers glow for a second, and the card he was holding sizzled and turned into ash. Ya don't know what you're talking about, _fille._  
  
I could find out.  
  
You said yourself you can't organize my thoughts inside your pretty little head.  
  
Make me angry enough, Cajun, and I'll certainly try my hardest--and what do you think I could find out along the way? They glared at each other across the hallway, repeating a scene they'd played out numerous times before, although now there seemed to be an added dimension, a new layer that both wanted to cautiously avoid.   
  
Out of habit, he picked the words he knew would enrage her the most. How long's he been gone this time, Rogue? How long you been moonin' and sighin' over him, waiting patiently for his return? How long d'ya think he'll stay? He spat the words out, feeling them scrape along his tongue as if each word was a shard of glass, tiny and sharp and cutting deep.  
  
You don't know _anything_ about me and Logan! You don't know what he's done for me, what I've done for him! Just shut the hell up, Remy, because I'm closer to him than you can even imagine!   
  
For a second he looked like any other impassioned teenage boy, hurt and rage and confusion flashing across his face before he shrugged her words off. he said calmly, and Rogue blinked, startled at his instant change of demeanor. Just be careful, dat's all. He feigned exhaustion, stretching his arms above his head and yawning like an over-sized cat. Don't know about you, chere, but dis cajun could use some sleep. _Bonne nuit._ He disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him, and Rogue couldn't help but notice that, despite the french endearments, there'd been no warmth in his eyes.


End file.
